A dark dark night
by Petileo
Summary: AU SLASH,HPDM, Set in the real world with magic themes.Harry is forced to stay in old scary castle, with only the mysterious happenings for company, while being watched by a bloodsuckin Draco!Who can blame him?Vampires, werewolves and evil spirits abound!
1. Dark Dreamings

**Disclaimer:** I do not in any way own Harry Potter

**A/N: Right, this is the start of my first long fic, so please review and as my plot is a little _free_ at the moment ideas are helpful! This is going to be harryxdraco SLASH so if you don't like, do not read! This is an AU and will involve the supernatural and a bit of magic, and will also features vampires, werewoves etc. I am also very sorry if it looks as if I have taken someone else's ideas, I don't mean to and if I do accidentally, I am very sorry! Now, enjoy!**

**Warnings:** Will contain swearing, light limes in future chapters, SLASH (boyxboy), AU, and vampiric themes.

**A dark dark night**

The night was dark and deep, and the heavy clouds rolling across the sky obscured even the stars from view. A wind rustled through the decaying trees and twirled its way up the road, making a rusty swinging gate whine on its hinges before fading, and leaving all still.

A night on the dark of the moon always seemed to create this effect. Causing blackness so deep, it seemed to consume all surrounding light till nothing could be seen at all. And it was through this velvet night that creature's long forgotten began to stir.

The wind picked up again. Stronger this time, enough to carry the fallen leaves from their piles at the side of the road up into the air. The sound of the swinging gate once again pierced through the darkness. Odd, as every other possible sound seemed smothered by the night. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, and most definitely wanted its activities kept unseen and unheard.

Nevertheless, one other noise managed to be heard. It was a very faint, barely discernable sound. A light patter of footsteps could be heard making contact with the paving of the road, and were slowly growing louder as the source of them drew closer. Then, above it, the unmistakable sound of laboured breathing rattled through the air. They were quick, sharp and short, and the person they belonged to was obviously in some kind of distress.

The swinging gate rattled back against its hook with a clang and the footsteps came with greater speed. The patter had now become a clicking snap against the stone and the breathing became harsher with every footfall.

The pace was a rhythmic thud and echoed like a heart beat around the enclosed road. Getting faster and faster until-

The wind died down again, and there was silence as the night consumed any sound from the air. The footsteps faded as well, the lack of any noise oppressive. The blackness seemed to congeal and coalesce, getting even thicker, until only a small dwindling window of view could be seen; the swinging gate whining open once more, battering its hinges.

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped open. Before shutting them again just as quickly. Unfortunately for him, his alarm clock still continued to shriek its deafening wail.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

With a groan Harry dove back under his covers, as if that would keep the light of day away from him. And shut up the most infernal invention ever thought up, of course.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Suffice to say, it didn't. With another heart felt groan Harry removed himself from his bed long enough to shut the damn thing off. He then proceeded to fall back on top of his still very warm and comfy blankets and stare at the ceiling with an expression of utmost lethargy. He was just starting to nod off again when there was another dreaded noise rang in the silence, echoing off the cheap flat board walls.

Cursing to himself, the young brunette clumsily tumbled out of his bed, in his search for his ringing mobile phone. When he finally found the thing (which had somehow ended up down the back of his headboard), he saw that it was Hermione calling him and let the largest groan of the morning yet.

"Mione? What do you want at this time of the morning", he checked his watch, "at 7.15? In the morning!" he asked appalled.

"Harry!" came the indignant reply " you should be up already anyway, and who said I wanted something! I am one of your best friends, can't I just be calling for a friendly chat?!" exclaimed Hermione.

"No. Whenever you call me, it always ends up with something work related, or book-related now that I think about it." he mused back to her.

"I do not!"

Her reply was an eye roll, not that she could see it.

" Well, is it? Work related that is?"

". . .

. . . Yes"

With an exasperated sigh, Harry gave into the inevitable and decided to just go along. This time.

"Just come down to the office as soon as you can and I'll explain. Don't worry, it's really good this time, even Ron says so," she said, correctly interpreting his silence as acquiescence.

"Fine, I'll be there in a bit, if it's not just _you_ excited at the prospect of _working,_ it can't be too bad" he responded before closing the connection.

With a sigh this time, Harry rolled of the bed and stood up, checking his reflection lazily in the mirror. Hermione was just too damn chirpy for such an early time like this, stupid morning people. However Harry was not nearly as bad as Ron, the only reason Hermione could get him up at all was because of his not so secret crush on her.

Harry sighed yet again as he stumbled into the shower, hoping to wake himself up with the cold water. As he scrubbed himself down, he thought of his life so far and how wholly unsatisfying a lot of it had been.

He had lived with his Aunt (his mother's sister), her husband and his cousin since he had been a year old, after his parents died in a car crash after they had been drunk, leaving him on the doorstep of his hard working relatives. However this story seemed quite dubious to Harry considering all of his _family, _whenever his parents were mentioned (which was hardly ever), were always spoke of, as freaks or weirdo's and both his aunt and uncle were very tight lipped on the subject. It had taken till he was eight years old to get that much information out of them, due to their number one rule, _don't ask questions! _Harry had not had the best childhood under the Dursley residence that was for certain.

He had gone to the local comprehensive for secondary school, and there met his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They had their struggles through the 7 years they were there but at the end of it were still the best of friends. In fact they had planned their entire Gap Year together. After which Hermione and Harry had planed to go to university whilst Ron was going to join his family business (which dealt with electricals, which Ron claimed stemmed from his fathers obsession with plugs). They were going to travel the world together and do odd jobs along the way to help pay for it.

One way or another, they had somehow been placed with the job of investigating a report of some rare wild animal. Harry was still not sure to this day how they had landed with that one, especially as it was dealing with an oversized spider of all things (though Ron's expression had been well worth it). Nevertheless, do the job they did and, fortunately or unfortunately, all three of them became hooked from there on in. There was just something very satisfying about it all. In fact, they became so engrossed in investigating, reporting and recording the odder side of life that they ditched what they were planning to do and decided to set up their own business on just that.

Now, it wasn't some kind of investigators team where they searched for clues in old haunted castles and said 'let's split up!' at the worst times but if there was a puzzle that needed solving, none of them could resist it. It didn't bring much money but it was what they lived for.

Or used to live for. At 22 Harry was already beginning to tire from it. Constantly travelling and having to care about other people's business was really beginning to wear him down. He was just so, _tired_ of it. The things they had to investigate and report on were just so mundane most of the time; they never got anything he was really interested in anymore.

Harry had always believed in ghosts, ghouls and the supernatural. Well, suspected anyway. Whether it was a shadow or something else, he just felt that there was something more under the surface of normal, everyday life. Of course, he was a realist as well. If he didn't see it, he didn't believe it. There were plenty of people out there who just made everything up. It wasn't that Harry was a believer exactly, more that he _wanted_ to believe.

Harry finished washing and turned off the water with yet another sigh before throwing some clothes on. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

* * *

Harry was quickly out the door of the tiny rented flat he was staying in and only briefly stopped on his way to the 'office' to grab a cup of morning coffee. The 'office' was really just a couple of cheap rental rooms bound together by nothing more than the near constant stream of people rushing around them. From the start, they had managed to 'collect' people who tagged along on their travels and became a part of their 'team'. Harry snorted, how absolutely tacky his thoughts were this morning.

He turned off the pavement and jogged up some stairs to a slightly run down building; the paint was peeling and the some of the glass was cracked in the windows.

As he entered, Harry paused to mutter a quick, "Hi Luna" to the vacant girl as she passed by and slipped through the door. Only to be met immediately by the bright face of Colin Creevey.

" Hiya Harry!"

Colin was a small boy, who was never seen without his camera round his neck and seemed to worship Harry for reasons he had never been able to figure out. As soon as they had been introduced Colin began his obsession of everything Harry, he just seemed fascinated with every single thing he did. His musing's on Colin's inner mentality must have shown on his face as Colin asked,

"Are you all right Harry, you look distracted" in a concerned voice.

Harry snapped out of his daze,

"Oh! Yes, I'm er, fine Colin"

He quickly sidestepped Colin and ducked around the corner to escape. As he walked down a makeshift corridor of cardboard walls, he thought of how most of the 'staff' were taken on by Hermione. Colin definitely was, Ron thought he was weird and Harry tried to avoid him as much as possible. Luna, on the other hand Harry rather liked, despite her . . . oddities in thought.

The last member was Ginny, Ron's little sister, who had joined them temporarily last month. Harry often tried to avoid her as well. As nice and lovely as she was, she had a rather nasty crush on him and he wasn't in the least bit interested. He hoped she would leave soon, she couldn't seem to take the hint and everyone else thought it was hilarious.

For you see, Harry wasn't really interested in girls. At all. In fact he. . .swung the _other _way so to speak. Ginny either didn't know this, or was in a constant state of denial. Hermione had invited her to stay as well, now that he thought about it.

He paused as the thought that Hermione was taking over the running of their little business like a glorified mother hen, passed through his mind. He shook himself of the thought and turned into the only solid part of their impromptu centre of business.

Hermione was seated at a desk, nose-deep in papers she was going over. As she heard him approach, she looked up.

"Oh hey Harry, you were quick. Sorry everything is so messy, we're packing up right now."

Harry felt a stab of irritation that he had not been told that they were moving on again before shoving it down to find out what Hermione had decided to call him in so early for.

"Well, we just got a new job last night, and you know that we have that case in Italy, about the Museum they want us to report on?" she continued without waiting for a reply " well we have to got to do that, but this new request, we just can't ignore it, so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing this one by yourself?"

This question annoyed Harry.

"Why can't any of the others do this one? If it is a one person job I'm sure Colin or Luna could do it" he snapped.

"Well, it just doesn't interest them and um yeah . . .." she trailed off not too convincingly.

Harry just silently stared at her, knowing that this was not the real reason. Hermione was always terrible at lying.

"Oh fine!" she said, looking rather flustered as she straightened the papers on her desk.

"The others, well, don't want to do it. They're, um, too . . . frightened" She hissed in a low voice.

Harry raised an eyebrow, much more interested than he was at the start. If all the others didn't want to do it, it must be very dangerous indeed. In their line of work you see, there sometimes was a risk factor. The higher the risk, the higher the pay, but as Ron once said, money is no good if you're dead.

Harry always liked a bit of risk. It kept things interesting and got his heart racing. Yes, he was now definitely interested in what Hermione had to say.

* * *

**A/N: So what do you think, should I just stop now? Well, please review and tell me what you think!**

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	2. Wiltshire

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Ok, this is my second chapter, only took me two hours! Alright, please review! And don't worry, the good stuff is all the coming chapters, this is all just setting it up.**

**Warnings:** See first chapter, SLASH.

* * *

**Wiltshire**

Harry slammed the door to the cab as Hermione got out, and took a look around. The small town seemed perfectly normal; shops were open, businessmen were making their way to the train station and a gang of kids ran down the street laughing. Harry frowned in thought before turning back to Hermione.

"Just where the hell are we?" This did not seem the sort of place he had been expecting when investigating malevolent spirits, for some reason. It just looked, well too _normal. _

"Wiltshire" came the smart reply.

"Wiltshire?! As in Wiltshire, _England?_" asked Harry incredulously. For heavens sake, he even knew where Wiltshire was in relation to where he had grown up! It wasn't exactly the place he had imagined when Hermione had told him about this job. "_Wiltshire?"_

"Yes! And if you had actually listened to me you would know! What did you expect, some haunted little village in Eastern Europe somewhere?" Hermione said slightly sarcastically.

" . . . No."

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered "hopeless" under her breath. She gave him an appraising look. She had been a little worried about him for a while. He seemed tired lately and had a greater tendency to drift off and get lost in his own thoughts. It had worried a few of the others as well. She hoped that what he had to do here wouldn't drive him deeper into his little depression. She shook herself, grabbed Harry forcibly by the hand and dragged him off in search of the hotel.

Harry meanwhile was rubbing his temples with one hand as he was led along. His hand unconsciously drifted to the scar that was located on his forehead. It was a thin, small thing, in the shape of a lightening bolt. He had always been self-conscious about it and so was nearly always hidden behind his locks of his pitch hair. It had never bothered him physically before but as soon as he had arrived; he had felt this strange tingling sensation run across it. It was rather distracting.

Harry decided to blame it on the headache that came with travelling. That was another thing Harry was really beginning to loathe. It was the jetlag you see. This morning, or this afternoon, or whenever it was, they had been in Montreal and now, he was in England and he had no idea what time, or even what day it was. This was not an uncommon problem for Harry, but damn did it get annoying. He wouldn't sleep properly for days. Not that he would probably sleep at all in the coming week he thought ruefully.

His face split into a full-fledged grin at the thought of this job. Finally, something interesting to take his mind off things.

As he thought about it he decided to ask a question. "So when are we meeting the owner of this place then?"

"As soon as we get to the hotel" Hermione answered absently. She was supposed to be in Italy with the others, but she seemed to feel a bit bad leaving him completely by himself, so had come just to get things started; she would be leaving tomorrow morning. "Now Harry, you have to stay in the house for the full week, get the recordings and then the week after sort them all out, as we'll all be coming on the Friday. So we shall all be back together in just under two weeks, that's all right isn't it?"

"Yes Hermione" he said dully " I'm not someone you need to baby-sit 24/7, I shall be _fine. _As long as I don't get eaten before you get back of course."

Hermione hit him for his joking but smiled nonetheless. Harry was not smiling, that woman hit hard!

Harry's bad mood was quickly replaced by the nervous excitement that had been building ever since Hermione had told him about it in the rental room office.

Apparently, some owner of this big castle (or mansion, they weren't quite sure) wanted evidence of the presence of a malevolent spirit that 'lived' in the place. Harry wasn't sure what the man wanted to do with this 'evidence' but that wasn't his place to ask. At the time he had been sceptical, that didn't sound too scary. Hermione had then proceeded to explain that the man had had others in the past stay there and that there had been 'incidents'. When Harry asked for more information, Hermione had said that she didn't have any but that the owner would explain when they got there. However, the pay being offered was ridiculously high. Therefore Harry had a bad feeling he knew what might have happened to the previous people. Of course this just meant his interest rose even further. Damn his curiosity, damn it to hell; it was seriously going to get him killed one day.

Oh well, these things happen.

Harry sighed to himself as they finally arrived at the small hotel that was situated just outside the town centre.

* * *

"So where's this mysterious 'owner' then?" 

"Over there."

" . . . Oh. He looks…sort of …"

"Mad?"

"Yes."

Hermione sighed. "Well that doesn't matter because he is the one paying us. Besides, you should respect your elders."

Harry gave her a dubious look and turned his attention back to the man humming to himself in the corner. He was tall, and seemed about 300 years old. He had a long beard that he had tucked into his belt and was wearing the most jumbled mess of clashing colours that in Harry's mind most greatly resembled some sort of flashing neon sign.

He approached cautiously.

"Um, would you happen to be…Albus Dumbledore?"

The old man looked up, appearing pleasantly surprised. "Indeed I am m'boy, and you must be Harry Potter and this lovely lady must be Hermione Granger, no?"

They both nodded and sat down at the table in the lobby.

"So, I gave you a brief description of what I wanted didn't I?" asked Dumbledore.

Hermione cut across him. Harry gave her a look that clearly stated he thought the world was ending. She ignored it. "If you wouldn't mind, sir, could you tell us the full story behind the house, it would help us in our investigation" she said hopefully.

" Oh, of course Miss.Granger! It wouls be most rude of me to send you off with so little information wouldn't it? Yes, most rude indeed" he mumbled to himself.

Both Harry and Hermione just stared at him waiting to continue.

"Well, about twenty years ago the house came into my possession, more of a mansion really. It was in quite the disrepair, still is as a matter of fact. None of the workmen want to go near the place you see."

Harry was becoming more intrigued by the minute. Of course it could just all be superstition around the place but for some reason Harry didn't think so. It just had this odd feeling in the back of his mind that this was the real thing.

Albus continued with his musing story, " Odd things happen in that place. I remember one day I came in to check on the work, we were trying to make it hospitable, and the kitchen was in complete disarray; plates flying everywhere pots, pans all over the place…My brother Aberforth, doesn't believe me you see. I need evidence to show him that there is something not right over there." He stated in a slightly proud voice. Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Yep, definitely cuckoo.

"Has anything else happened there, what about the others you have sent over?" Harry asked. He really wanted to know what _had _actually happened to everyone else who had been sent there. Fair enough, seeing as he was going there himself.

Dumbledore suddenly looked a little uncomfortable, as if he really didn't like the answer to Harry's questions. "Well, there have been shadows, odd figures, that sort of thing…"

"And the people" Harry prompted.

"Er, well, um…they have, mostly, disappeared."

Harry said "mostly" at the same time Hermione said, "disappeared", looking rather alarmed.

Dumbledore was obviously uncomfortable now. "Well, the ones that didn't disappear were found dead." This was met with wide-eyed stares so he quickly pressed on. "But, we know now from experience where the people have died so as long as you don't go to those places in the dark of night, I'm sure you'll be fine Harry m'boy." He finished with a benevolent smile, which did not comfort Harry in the slightest.

"Well, we've already agreed. . ." Hermione said hesitantly, she felt awful. How could she let Harry go there? It was suicide by the sounds of it.

"I'll be fine Mione. Always have in the past. This just…makes it more exciting!" Harry exclaimed chirpily.

Hermione looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Harry was beginning to wonder that himself.

* * *

There was a bump as the car hit yet another mound in the road. They had been driving down something that could only be called a dirt track for half an hour. The fact the driver had called it a short cut was not making him feel that much better about it. Harry dove to keep his equipment bag from falling for the fourteenth time that afternoon and thought back to Hermione's goodbye. 

He could still quite clearly see her harried face; she clearly was taking the whole 'everyone has died' thing much worse than Harry himself was. He could also remember Dumbledore's crazy little smile as the car went off. He shuddered; in his opinion of Dumbledore was that he was as mad as they came.

He didn't know why he wasn't as worried about this as he really should be. _That_ fact was what was actually worrying him. He tried to be scared, really he did, but Harry just couldn't smother his undying curiosity about the whole thing. It was a mystery, and a mystery, Harry groaned to himself, he just never could resist.

It was also highly possible that his lack of fear stemmed from the fact that he had only seen a picture of the mansion, had only heard of the bad things about the place rather than experiencing them himself and that the autumn sunlight was chasing all the shadows away.

Then again…the sun was starting to set as he looked out the window…

With an extra large bump, that sent him careening forward into the seat in front, the car bounced off the dirt road and onto another one. This one however was paved, though still enclosed on both sides by tall trees. The engine stopped rattling and a door slammed as the driver got out.

"Sorry, but I ain't gettin' any further than this, 'kay? The place gives me the wibbles'."

Harry just blinked, before the fact that he had to get out of the vehicle registered in his brain. He clambered out and wrenched his bag from the back and gave it a quick once over to make sure nothing expensive had broken.

"Righ', well it's just down the road, yer can't miss it alrigh'?" said the driver, pointing vaguely down the road into the distance, before climbing back into the car. He really _did_ seem on edge Harry mused.

"Well, good luck, yer'll need it" and with that he nodded and drove off in the opposite direction. Harry watched him until he got out of sight.

Harry suddenly shivered, a small wind had picked up; and now he was alone, the sun seemed a lot lower in the sky. Or perhaps it was just the clouds that had come in. Funny, he didn't remember seeing any clouds in the sky earlier. He looked around and clutched the bag tighter. Get a grip! It was just the bloody weather.

This thought didn't comfort him as much as he wanted it to.

* * *

He started walking down the road to where the driver had pointed. He couldn't help but notice that the branches of the trees on either side of the road hung low and in such a way that they created boughs that really did enclose the road very well from the outside. It was early October and autumn was in full swing, the leaves were quite beautiful in their reds, yellows and oranges. The road was covered in an odd sort of paving, which made a clicking noise for his every step. He also noticed that there were gutters on either side of the road, which were filled with fallen leaves from the many trees. It all seemed sort of familiar. 

He shivered again as the collecting clouds above gave a slight rumble. There was going to be a storm, how typical. He let out a slightly shaky sigh. He hoped he would get to the mansion before it started to rain. He really couldn't get all his equipment wet.

The wind got a little stronger, rustling his already very messy hair and disturbing the leaf piles, pushing them into the air. He zipped up his jacket; the air really was much colder than it was this morning.

Through the tree line he could begin to see a tower. The sight of his goal, made him speed up slightly. It pierced the sky, and behind it he could make out more slate grey stone. Harry frowned, was this a castle or a mansion? He continued on, impatient to see the house in its entirety, it appeared to be just round the next corner.

He stopped in his tracks. Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen something in his peripheral vision. It was a rusty swinging gate, hanging gently against its hook. There was a little path behind it, which was overgrown; some of the paving had been pushed over from the weeds. As he watched, the wind swung the gate open; creating a whining sound that stirred something in his memory. He had seen this before, he was sure of it. He tried to recall where, but he was at a loss. Harry looked about himself again. It was all very familiar, frighteningly so. The swinging gate whined again as the gusts of wind changed direction.

Harry bit his lip, a nervous habit, and hurried at double the pace to the house, turning his back and trying to push the road and the swinging gate out of his mind. He was just being stupid! But even as he thought this, a nagging fear had settled itself in the back of his head. Things were already getting weird, and being all by himself was not helping his paranoia.

The swinging gate gave another grinding whine as it was forced open once more.

Harry shivered.

* * *

**A/N: Alright, how was that, I think I have a slightly better idea where this story is going now. Please review, it gives me inspiration to update faster! I'm really soft, so I will give into badgereing!**


	3. Yew Hedges

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Harry Potter**

**A/N: Ahh, another chapter done. I am afraid it is another filler really, but it will be worth it in the end. Draco will come in soon (ish). I'll try to add a bit of him next chapter. I have 11 alerts already! I feel soo happy! Only 6 reviews though...But still good!Oh and for:**

**Ame Mika'zuki: **the intro invovles the last scene of chpt,2 but you will see the true relevance later! And no the driver is not Hagrid. You gave me my best review though so thankyou! I like mad Dumbles, too funny. And thanks for the heads up on that line, i'll fix it later.

**Warnings: **See first chapter, SLASH

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As he turned the corner however, Harry discovered that he had been misled. The house was nowhere in sight. He gave an irritated sigh and looked around, hoping to find some direction, 'Couldn't miss it'? Bloody driver.

On his left hand side there appeared to be a path, with towering overgrown hedges on either side of it. Harry had no idea where to go so he decided to follow it, and see where it led, hopefully it would give him an idea of how to get to the house.

He pulled his bag tighter to his chest and set off. With age, it seemed, the hedges had got out of hand and now blocked most of the path, making it very narrow. Harry swallowed nervously. He had never suffered from claustrophobia before but…these hedges were _really_ tall. He continued walking, his breath becoming shallower. He really wanted to get out now. He could hear his own breathing in his head. He broke out into a run, trying to get out of the confined space as soon as possible.

He finally stumbled into a sort of close. It was still surrounded by those damned hedges but it was wider here and if he looked up he could see the sky. Which was looking quite turbulent at the moment. He paused to catch his breath and inspected the hedge next to him. It appeared to be yew. Why would anyone want a hedge made out of yew? This place, Harry decided, was just weird.

He suddenly stiffened when he heard a shuffling noise from close by. His breath hitched in fear, as he imagined what could have made it. It was ruffling now, a little like feathers and he could hear the scratch of footsteps on the floor. He waited, routed to the spot.

From between the hedges jumped out a white, ghost like creature. Harry gave a strangled cry and jumped right into the bush behind him. He gave the ghost-thing a look of horror. He hadn't even got inside and he was going to die, it wasn't fair damn it! He looked at it again, wanting to see his death.

It was a peacock. Harry blinked. Yes, still a peacock. Though, admittedly, a very strange one. It pecked the ground a couple of times, a lot like a chicken, then cocked its head at the petrified human that was half submerged in the yew hedge. It was completely white; Harry didn't know you could get albino peacocks. He looked it up and down, still clinging to the hedge. It looked a little wild; feathers were sticking up in odd places and its talons looked far too sharp for his liking. However, it was the eyes, which were still locked on him, that made Harry shiver.

They were a glistening red, like overripe cherries and seemed to pierce right through him. Harry was sure that those eyes were not normal. Yes, a very strange bird indeed.

The peacock gave an odd trill, which sounded like nails down a chalkboard mixed with a sort of squawking noise. Harry shuddered again at the sound and was most grateful when it dove through the other side of the hedge. Harry moved forward to pick up his dropped bag, wincing slightly at the ominous rattle that was produced. He hoped that whatever it was that broke, was not expensive.

He briefly made sure his heartbeat had returned to normal after his encounter with the red-eyed monster, before setting off down the path once again. Bloody birds.

It didn't take him long to get to the end and come out on a rather impressive scene.

* * *

Harry was still pondering on how long that peacock would be haunting his nightmares that he didn't immediately notice. The only reason he looked up was that the wind, which he had been sheltered from in the hedges, was back again.

He couldn't help but gasp slightly at the sight before him.

The house in front of him was definitely impressive, even in its dilapidated state. It looked as if many centuries ago it had been a castle but then had been remodelled, more into a sort of manor. There were no crenulated walls at any rate. Most of the building was made up of a dark grey stone that would of slashed the sky when newly built, but now age had softened the edges and made it almost…welcoming, oddly enough. It wasn't all stone though, some walls were painted white, with black wooden beams across them, and grey slate tiling on the roofs, though much of it was missing in places.

The front had great wooden doors; twenty feet high, that Harry was sure would have been incredibly imposing when they had been in their full glory of the past. The most eye-catching feature, however, were the various towers that rose up into the sky, all made of dark grey slate-stone.

Harry took a glance at the surrounding grounds. From what he could see, the front seemed to be mostly made up of lawns. In the middle there was a gravel road, which led from the house, winding down to wrought iron gates, which were chained shut. Harry presumed that that was where he would have ended up had he followed the paved road. Maybe the driver wasn't so bad after all.

As grand as it all was though, to Harry, it all seemed far too still. As if all the life had been sucked out of it. There was a fountain just before the entrance. It surely would have been beautiful but now, pieces had been broken off, it was covered in filth and it was clogged with half decaying leaves. Even the grass was dried and lifeless beneath his feet.

Harry gave a sigh and shook off his musings on the landscape. It wasn't what he was here for and he really needed to get his mind back on track. No more getting scared out of his mind by birds and certainly no more panic attacks brought on by innocent hedges!

He walked with a purposeful stride towards the front door. It had a few large, wide steps to get up to reach it and then Harry was faced with trying to open them. "Oh crap" Harry muttered. They doors looked rather heavy, and very solid too.

With another sigh Harry dropped his bag to the floor and proceeded to put all his weight against one of the massive doors. For a moment or two it refused to move, but with a bit more pushing it finally began to grind open. He could only open it so far though; luckily it was enough for Harry to slip through with his bag.

He was once again faced with quite the sight. It must have been the entrance hall.

It was huge. He was immediately faced with a great, sweeping staircase. The hall itself was just as large and all of it seemed to be made of white marble. It was covered in a sort of blue-grey dirt now though, and mixed with the dust, it removed a lot of its splendour. On one side of the staircase vines had broken in and were beginning to trail up the banister as well. A lot of the windows were missing their glass or were heavily cracked. There was a flutter and Harry looked up. A wood pigeon flew up near the high ceiling. It landed on a structure that might have been the chandelier. There were several pigeons up there, Harry noted. They appeared to be nesting.

Harry started digging around in his jacket pockets. Where was it? Ah. He pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of a paper and began to unfold it. It was a map that Dumbledore had been kind enough to supply him with. With all the floors and rooms it was a little confusing, but it was much better than being left to stumble around all night. From what he had heard, doing that often resulted in an untimely death. Yes, he just had to be smart about this and nothing could go wrong. Well, he had to try to think positive didn't he?

He studied the map. He frowned a little at the red crosses that marked some places in the house. He checked the key, 'places people have known to have died'. Actually, that would probably help. A bit morbid perhaps, but it would at least tell him where to steer clear of. He had no desire to die.

He checked the map for a room that would be good to stay in during his visit. It was a little difficult; there were a lot of crosses. One of the towers seemed promising; at least he would have a really good view.

The wind blew in through the windows, making him shiver once more. He looked up. It really was getting dark. He probably only had about half an hour before the sun fully set. Definitely time to find a place to spend the night. Preferably where he would wake up in the morning.

* * *

He tried his best to follow the map, but damn if it wasn't confusing. There were just too many rooms in this place Harry decided. He checked the map once again; the tower entrance should be just down this corridor and then to the…right! No, to the left! Yes, to the left. Harry sighed to himself.

He walked down the corridor. It had taken him twenty minutes to get this far. The castle didn't have any electricity supply, so he was relying only on the waning light that was coming in through the windows. It really wasn't sufficient and it made map reading exceedingly difficult.

Some paintings on the wall caught his attention. The first one was of a severe looking man with long blonde hair and a sneer twisting his features. Harry frowned, he was sure the man would have been quite handsome if it wasn't for his expression. He read the nameplate underneath.

' Lucius Malfoy' it said in peeling letters.

Harry's frown deepened and he moved onto the next portrait. This one was of a woman. She also had light blonde hair, though she managed a small strained smile. This one was labelled, 'Narcissa'. He peered closer; he could see premature lines on her beautiful face.

"Well, don't they look happy" he said sarcastically. Quietly though, he didn't want to disturb the unnatural quite. It seemed near sacrilege to do so.

The last one in line held his attention the most. It was a boy, no more than perhaps eleven or twelve. He was seemed to be staring at the painter with an expression of uttermost boredom and distaste. It was quite disturbing actually. The boy's hair was even paler than the people who were obviously his parents. He had pale skin to match, making him look a little sickly under this light. He had dark grey eyes, like his father Harry noticed absently, but they appeared to have a greater intensity to them. If such a thing was possible in a painting of course. Harry could also tell that the boy would have had great looks when he was older. Not that that really mattered.

The sky rumbled slightly and Harry was brought back to the present. He really needed to get to that tower. The light was fading fast.

He walked down the remainder of the corridor and turned left. There was a thin wooden door. Harry easily pulled it open and saw same stone stairs twisting upwards. He followed them, highly aware of the clicking noise he made as he went up. It wasn't very long before he reached his destination at the top and came upon another door. He opened this one just as easily as the first and entered a circular room.

It had a shelf, which most probably held books once upon a time, but now only held dust and a spider's web in one corner. There was also a very simplistic bed adjacent to the large window. There was nothing else in the room, not even a chair. He put his bag down by the bed and clambered over it to take in the view from the window. This tower faced the back it seemed.

Forest surrounded the expansive grounds, enclosing it off from the outside, much like the trees had done to the paved road. There was a large tree; Harry didn't know what kind, which was tucked around a corner. There also was yet another pathway, this one seemed to twist and turn through the much more wild looking back garden. Harry decided he preferred it to the comparatively neat front lawns.

The sun was completely gone by now and night was encroaching in. A gust of wind blew through the open window and ruffled Harry's hair once again, this time sending a tingling sensation through the scar on his forehead. It wasn't unpleasant exactly, just odd. The oddest thing being why was it tingling at all. He ignored it,there was nothing he could do about it anyway.

Harry leant against the windowsill, staring out as the stars began to appear in the sky, the wind occasionally sending shudders down his spine. Harry had always been fascinated with the night sky. On bright cloudless nights, the stars and moon seemed to sing to him and keep him company when he was feeling particularly lonesome.

He let out a somnolent sigh. He needed to stop thinking about this right now. With all the travelling, and the jetlag, he really should try to get some sleep. He dropped down onto the bed so he was kneeling and gave the bag on the floor an irritable expression. There was recording equipment in there that he needed to set up. The thought irked him. He really could not be bothered to do it. Besides, it was dark now; he shouldn't go gallivanting off in the big _haunted _castle now should he? No. Definitely not. He had _some_ common sense after all.

He had seven whole days here. Which wouldn't officially start until tomorrow anyway. He wasn't even sure where he should set up either. He pondered this thought for a few moments before reaching a decision. For the next couple of days he would get a feel for the place, explore, that kind of thing. Then he would decide where to record. With that decided, he kicked off his shoes and lay back in the bed.

It was highly uncomfortable.

Harry shifted, trying to find some comfort. It didn't work. With a groan of annoyance he reached for his bag and dragged it towards him. He jerked it open and pulled out a white, rather comfy looking pillow. He placed it behind his head and pulled the slightly moth-eaten blanket over himself. It was a little disgusting, but it was getting cold, the window didn't have any glass after all.

Surprisingly, he fell into dreams within minutes.

* * *

He was running. And it was painful. That was all he could comprehend. He needed to breathe, faster and deeper. But he couldn't, every inhale shot a sharp pain up his spine and down again. His legs felt as if they were on fire, the pain was making his mind numb. He needed…he needed…what did he need to do? Run…runaway, that was the only thing in his mind, playing like a broken record…run…

He felt his fear mount as something closed in on him, he could feel his heart hurling itself against his ribs, breath coming out in coughing spurts. He needed to move faster, but he couldn't, he couldn't run anymore…he couldn't, his legs refused to move. He felt another's breathe on his skin and-

Harry awoke with a scream on his lips. He looked about wildly before realising he was alone. All alone. He curled in on himself under the blanket, panicked tears in his eyes.

He whimpered. He could still feel the breath on his neck.

**

* * *

**


	4. Visits

**Disclaimer:** I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Right, I'm on a roll, three chapters in three days! Finally we have some Draco coming in, and super sweet Neville! Well, a lot happens in this chapter. Harry really is becoming traumatised. It's great! Well, I shall once again beg for reviews, as I have about 800 hits, and 10 reviews. I rerally need some encouragement at this point! Well, on with the fic I guess. . . Oh and,**

'. . .' now means direct thought.

**Warnings:** See first chapter, SLASH

* * *

**Visits**

The shadow stared out at the landscape lackadaisically. It did not interest him; he had seen it many times before. Thus, the reason for his lack of enthusiasm. Then again, not much interested him at all these days.

At the moment he was languidly relaxing in one of the towers, as he was often want to do. Time passed so much faster when one was only barely aware of time passing at all, in his opinion. And he had so much time to spare.

Normally he would be sleeping, especially as he had fed so recently, but for once, something had caught his attention. He had felt it earlier, then stronger as the day progressed. It was almost like a presence, he normally could feel such things after all, but this one felt much more…intriguing. In fact, he could almost _taste it_. It slid across his tongue and down his throat in teh most delightful fashion. Yes, most interesting.

Imagine his surprise when source of said interest came to _him_. He had caught a glance of the creature as he entered. It was a pretty little thing he supposed. The shadow would most delight in his new interest that he had stumbled upon. He had to find out more. It was a compulsion that had to be satisfied.

He hoped it was skittish. A grin shone with malignant intent. It would be so much more _fun _that way.

The shadow withdrew from the window, back to the darkness to ponder over the new addition.

* * *

Dawn had never been more welcome. Harry had stayed up for hours last night before he had managed to drift off back to sleep. The horrible sensation of being hunted had lingered for a long time after he had woken and made his heart beat irregularly. When he did manage to catch some sleep, he was twisting and turning for the remainder of the dark hours. 

Overall, it had been a rather dreadful first night. Harry just hoped the following evenings didn't follow this one. He had no desire to repeat the experience.

On a brighter note, he had survived the night. With all of his limbs intact too. It did little to lighten his mood though. Harry was no stranger to nightmares but never had one felt so…so…_real._ It had been as if he had been reliving something that had actually happened. He sighed. He really needed to straighten out his thoughts. He did not need to brood over this all day.

Nevertheless, Harry _was_ in a rather sombre mood for the rest of the day.

After tipping his bag upside down, he finally managed to find his sandwiches. Ahh, Hermione, she was so kind to him. Sometimes. As he picked them up a little note fell from between the wrappings. It was pink. Harry felt his mood sink even further. He tentatively picked up the note and read it,

' Hope you like the sandwiches, Love Ginny!'

Harry shuddered, and tore the little pink paper into tiny smithereens. He knew that it was a completely unnecessary thing to do, Ginny wasn't that a bad if he ignored her, but this morning, he was in a rotten mood and had no desire to ever set eyes on anything pink again.

He grumbled to himself as he found his shoes and put them on, before realising he had absolutely no idea where to go or what to do. He gazed out the window. It was October, so the nights could be quite chilly but the days were normally warm enough. A walk outside should be able to clear his mind. With that, he headed to the door after shrugging on a jumper (it was still a little cold) and headed down the stairs, map carefully folded in the back pocket of his jeans.

* * *

He eventually found a backdoor after a good fifteen minutes searching for it. Damn worthless map. With a relieved sigh he finally walked outside. The wind was blowing quite strongly today; the leaves were being blown all over the place. The sky was a thick blanket of cloud, but the air itself was almost humid. He set off down the path, head down and arms wrapped around himself, not really thinking much of anything. He turned a corner and found himself in front of the tree he had seen from his tower window. It was incredibly wide and incredibly tall. However, what most interested Harry was what he spied in between the branches. 

There, hanging off two twines of rope was a swing. It was just a simple wooden board that was a little rotten round the edges, but Harry didn't care. He slowly sat himself down upon it, wrapping his arms around the thick, stiff ropes. He gently swung himself back and forth a few times, shoes dragging on the ground. The ropes creaked with age and the tree groaned slightly. He sat there and thought.

He had been so _tired_ recently. Tired with everything, work, travelling, shopping, eating, just… _everything_. He didn't know why either. He sighed and looked at his converse trainers that he was wearing. 'Huh, didn't know they were falling apart _that_ much'. They were indeed falling to pieces. He scuffed them again in the grey dust that would have been soil at some point in the past.

Everything was so complicated as well. Couldn't people just leave him alone when asked, Ginny for example? Though he supposed it didn't really matter. Most things just couldn't bother him at all anymore, mostly because he didn't feel a part of them. He felt…isolated from everyone else, like an observer. When he was awake, it was like he was dreaming; nothing seemed real, while his dreams felt frighteningly so. He felt numb, hollow.

Hw swung a little more on the swing. He wasn't as if he was feeling suicidal or anything, it was just that…he felt alone. More alone than he had ever felt in his whole life, which was saying something. He sighed and looked at the sky. The wind blew and lifted his hair, tingling his scar once again. This time he put a hand to it, rubbing it slightly, wondering why the _fucking hell _it was doing this. With another sigh of aggravation he stood up from the swing and walked back to the house. He clutched his arms tighter to himself. There was no one else to keep him company anyway.

* * *

As he walked back down the corridor on the second floor to the tower, he glanced at the portraits once again. It wasn't until the last, however, that he stopped. There was the boy, of about eleven or twelve, staring back at him. Yesterday, he was sure that the boy had only held a rather impassive air. Now, as he leaned closer, he identified that the painting was most definitely smirking at him. He quickly jumped back in surprise. Yes, the boy was still wearing that smirk. He looked to his right and left. He could have sworn that last night the boy was merely distasteful in his expression. However, before he could fly into a full-fledged panic, something else distracted him from the mocking portrait. 

As he looked left down the corridor, he felt something. Whatever it was, it had his skin prickling and the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. His breath was deep as he stared down the corridor, eyes glazed. Something was coming, he could _feel _it.

There was a horrendous crash from downstairs and Harry snapped back to reality, immediately running as fast as he possibly could in the direction of the disturbance. He was led to the top of the entrance hall; he leaned over the banister and saw a dark figure at the bottom, leaning next to something that might once of been a vase. Finding unknown courage, Harry crept down the staircase, behind the bent figure. Just as he reached it, it turned around,

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Two identical screams rung out in the silence.

Once Harry recovered enough to see that the figure was another person, he quickly demanded, "Who are you?"

The round faced boy fiddled with the hat in his hands and opened his mouth to speak several times with no result before squeaking out in a small voice,

" I'm the gardener."

"The gardener…" Harry said faintly. His heart was still located in his throat somewhere.

The boy fidgeted again, " Well, I'm _a _gardener", still in a very small voice.

Harry just looked at him blankly, not knowing quite what to say.

"Erm, are you Mr. Harry Potter, sir?" at Harry's vacant nod he continued, "Oh, I'm so sorry for scaring you sir, it's just that old Dumbledore sent me to check on you once he found out that Mundungus, the blighter, only sent you as far as the road."

Harry took a minute to absorb the information, heart still beating faster than was healthy.

"Right, and you are…?" Harry finally asked.

"Oh, I'm Neville, and I'm so glad to see you're still alright, sir." Said Neville earnestly.

He really seemed sweet, this Neville, Harry mused. "No need to call me sir Neville, I'm probably younger than you."

"Oh, right, sorry," stuttered Neville "It's just me Gran, she's big on manners…so, yeah…"

Harry smiled slightly, "I guess you were the one that broke the vase, hmm?" Harry asked only slightly mocking. He couldn't help it, Neville just had a clumsy look to him.

Neville blushed to his ears, "Er, yes, um, I'm a bit…uncoordinated at times. Sorry"

Harry shook his head. "It's fine Neville, really. I would offer you tea, but I don't think you want to go to the kitchen." Harry gave wry grin at that.

Neville seemed to pale. "No, no I think I'll just stay here, don't want to get lost."

Harry gave a small chuckle. Neville had effectively distracted him from his previous mood.

"Have you lived in the village all your life Neville?" Harry asked curiously.

The slightly chubby boy appeared glad to get off the previous topic, "Yep, lived here with me Gran ever since I was little" he stated happily.

" Then you know all the stories about this place then?" Harry knew there was a lot more to this place than Dumbledore had told them. Remembering the portrait from just a few moments ago, Harry shivered slightly.

"Well," Neville looked a little uncomfortable, "I suppose since you're staying here I should tell you the truth. Dumbledore, though really kind, has a habit of leaving out the…worst bits."

"And what would those be Neville?" said Harry in a steady voice.

Neville sighed. Harry seemed like a really nice person. Most other people laughed at him when he broke something, he didn't want to frighten him. But Harry really did need to know the truth.

" I know you have probably heard that the occasional person has died here, yes? Normally from odd 'accidents'? Well that's…smoothing things over a bit."

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. People dying from horrible incidents was smoothing things over? Harry's trepidation began to rise. He had a really bad feeling about all of this.

Neville continued, looking worse by the second "The truth is, _everyone,_ who has stayed here over night has died. They may just claim they disappeared, but everyone _knows_ their dead." Neville hesitated before going on; it really wasn't a pretty picture.

" And when they do turn up, they look perfectly fine, apart from being dead of course, and pale as anything, but most dead people are pale though…" he trailed a bit before glancing at Harry. "In fact, you're the first one to survive the night for years. The last person Dumbledore sent, just last week, a Mark Evans, he _disappeared_ just a few days ago."

Neville shook his head. " And all this for what? Evidence to his brother that he _isn't _round the bend."

Harry's first thought was, 'my mother's maiden name was Evans…'Poor thing, was probably in shock. He had heard it was bad, but not this bad. It really _was _suicide. His ire at the situation rose. When he got his hands on Dumbledore, he was going to kill him. In the most painful way he could possible think of.

And Harry had a very creative imagination.

* * *

Neville must have felt bad for be being the bearer of bad news, no matter how unintentional it was. That or he was rather frightened by the malicious look on Harry's face. Either way, he made a quick goodbye and wished him luck, still fiddling with his hat. Neville really was quite sweet. And he had been company. 

Once again he had been left alone and the fears that had been repressed by Neville's visit were rising to the surface again. He looked at the sky through a broken window. The sun was far too low in the sky for this time of day. He checked his watch and was unpleasantly surprised to find it was 2.30 already. Wonderful, half the day was already gone. And he was hungry.

He decided just to go up to his tower room and perhaps read one of the books he had brought with him. He really needed a distraction from the revelations Neville had brought.

He slowly climbed the staircase. At the top, he teetered slightly; he was reluctant to go back. He didn't particularly have any desire, whatsoever, to pass those portraits again. He shook himself, what was he thinking! The whole thing was probably just part of his paranoid imagination. He growled slightly to himself, staying in this bloody mansion was really creating hell on his neurosis. He stormed back up the stairs; he was not frightened of some oil paint and canvas!

* * *

His resolve melted when he reached the edge of the corridor. He suddenly had the unreasonable sensation that he was being watched. He surreptitiously looked about him, no one there. Big surprise. Still, the feeling lingered and refused to go away. How irritating. 

Harry took a calming breath before he began to walk down the corridor. He was doing well until he reached the boy's portrait. He hesitated, rocking back and forth on his feet. It was a completely irrational fear, so he should just face it and be done with it. He couldn't do this every time he wanted to go to the tower!

He took another breath and pivoted to face the portrait.

Was it him, or did that smirk look even more conceited than last time? He mentally berated himself; this was ridiculous! He decided he should probably at least learn the name of the boy that was disturbing him with such infuriating ease.

'Draco' the nameplate read.

Harry frowned, was that Latin?

"Draco?" he murmured.

'_Yes?'_ replied a whisper in his head.

That was it. He couldn't help it.

He screamed, turned tail and fled down the corridor as fast as humanly possible.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, I have a feeling that this chapter was a little rushed, so tell me what you think. I tried, but I got far too tired of this chapter to do anymore on it. So, please review, it'll make me really happy!**


	5. Storms Brewing

**Disclaimer:** I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Woah, my longest chapter yet. I would like to say that I am really not happy with this chapter. I seem to have achieved the impossible, bi-polar writing! The whole thing seems to be very badly written creepy happenings with interval spurts of odd sarcastic humour. I am really not happy at all. Well, here's the chapter anyway. Oh, and pray I get some inspiration for the next chapter, its Harry and Draco's first...conversation. Please review!**

**Warnings:** See first chapter, SLASH

* * *

**Storms Brewing**

Harry was woken the next morning by the pre-dawn light filtering through the window above his bed. The previous day, after the…incident in the hallway, he had sought refuge in the tower. He had eventually calmed down enough to stop staring at the door and decided that he really needed to distract himself.

For as much as Harry tried to deny it, he knew that the voice that he had felt brush across his mind was real. And that was as far as Harry was willing to think at the moment. He most certainly did not want to think of _how _he had heard that nasty little voice, nor did he want to fathom how a long dead boy, who was probably the mystery murderer of the mansion, was communicating at all in the first place. Yes, Harry didn't want to think of any of these things. His nerves were far too tense already, thank you very much.

He had quickly dug out a book from his bag, not at all caring which one and had focused on reading it with intensity that would have made Hermione exceptionally proud of him. In fact, he had kept reading all afternoon and then some, until he could not remember giving in to slumber. That would probably explain the book he found, lodged between his shoulder blades that morning. Though how it got there of all places was a mystery.

So with a sore back and a still slightly rattled mind, Harry's second morning was not much better than the first. Especially as it occurred to him that he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning either, what with all the drama that filled _that _particular Tuesday. Yes, Tuesday. By checking his phone, Harry was able to ascertain what day of the week it was. It really shouldn't have made him as happy as it did.

The light got brighter as Harry attacked another set of sandwiches furiously, after furtively checking the wrappings for pink notes. As he polished off the last one, sucking on one finger musingly, Harry remembered his unfinished plan of exploring the rest of the castle. After the previous day's _surprises _he was a little reluctant to do so, but his damn curiosity was welling up in him once again and Harry knew perfectly well that it would have to be answered sooner or later. And, well, honestly, what was the worst that could happen? 'He could get mauled by sinister, eerie little dead spirit boys and have his corpse turn up weeks later'. But Harry decided to ignore the dire warnings his common sense was giving him, and go explore anyway. He would just blame it on his curiosity later.

* * *

How many fucking times was it possible to get lost in this bloody place?! These were Harry's thoughts as he ended up in the entrance hall for the twelfth time in the past forty-five minutes. It was as if the house was purposely trying to confuse him. And infuriate the pissing hell out of him at the same time of course. Needless to say, it was managing quite well in that aspect. 

Harry took a deep breath, trying to pacify his ire. Right, he should just pick a room to investigate and just try to get there, instead of randomly walking about. Harry was feeling a lot better than earlier, nothing out of the ordinary had happened on his little wander and in the face of his anger any remaining uneasiness had left him. A little labelled room on the map drew his eye, the 'drawing room'. It appeared to be just off the hall.

After a few moments to get the correct direction, Harry walked to the right, towards one of the doors. Nearly all of the inside doors were the same, painted in peeling white with a tinge of blue-green, with ornamental handles. The rest, like the door to the tower, were much plainer; thin wood with sometimes no handle at all. He gently pried open the door and entered the drawing room. It had large rectangular windows lining the right side and another large window on the left, with an alcove and bench beneath it. There was a long table in the middle of the room, with a large, dusty, sheet-covering protecting the wood underneath. Matching chairs were stacked in the corners and the carpet, though obviously once very lavish, was now faded and thinning.

One of the tree branches outside rustled and Harry saw one of the wood pigeons fly off across the grounds. He gave a melancholic smile and dragged his fingers over the sheet covered table. The air, like the rest of the house hung with a stillness that seemed as if it had never been disturbed. As Harry glanced around he felt as if he finally appreciated how _old _this place truly was.

As he turned back around he saw a small wooden door stationed in a corner. He had at first not seen it as it had blended so well with the rest of the wall. Curiously, Harry walked over, as if subconsciously drawn to it. There was no handle, so he had to use his nails to dislodge it from the wall. It opened onto a small, dark passageway. The light from the windows behind him illuminated it enough for Harry to glimpse some stairs going down. He peered into the darkness, and a wind from down below twisted its way past him. He bit his lip. Where could wind come from down there? He couldn't see anything past the first step.

Chewing his lip a little more, Harry took a step into the passageway, and then another. He quickly spun around to check that the door was still open; it was. He took another step and stood on the balls of his feet, hoping to get a better look of what lay down the stairs. Nothing. He glanced behind again, door still open. He swept his gaze around the passage, it seemed to be carved out of stone or rock, whether it was the same as what made up the rest of the house Harry couldn't tell. It was uneven though, showing it was not normally used, and the stairs were of the same quality.

Gathering all his daring, Harry nimbly made his way down the stairs, taking the utmost care not to trip. A fall would most certainly be very painful. As he reached the bottom of the stairway, he paused to take a brief look. In the dim light it was hard to tell, but it appeared to be a room made of stone, roughly the same size as the drawing room above. He peered through the darkness once more; there were iron bars, and possibly something that looked like a lock. It was distressing not being able to see and in effort to see better, Harry took a step forward.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he knew something was wrong. A force immediately rushed to meet him. It was strong and felt exceedingly spiteful in nature.

It pressed against him fiercely. Harry tried to draw breath but his lungs refused; the pressure was too great. He stumbled back and fell on top of the stone steps, the rough edges callously tearing into his back. He spluttered slightly as he choked on his own spittle, vainly trying to breathe. He started coughing slightly, his hands desperately trying to find purchase on the rock beneath him so he could flee. He at last pushed himself up and clambered his way up the stairs, attempting to keep the ominous black spots out of his vision. He practically hurtled his way out the door and only managed a few steps before collapsing next to the long table.

He frantically grasped the edge of the table to hold himself up, tears gently spilling from his eyes. He drew in great hacking breaths, trying to reduce effects of his near asphyxiation. After several minutes just sitting there, and when his breathing had calmed to only harsh instead of desperate, he finally got a grip on himself. He turned fearfully to the door in the corner. It fluttered innocently on its hinges. It took a couple more minutes before Harry managed pulled himself to standing and slam the door shut. He wished it had a lock.

He leant against the table, thinking about what the hell had just happened. He was sure that the room he had seen had once been some kind of dungeon or holding cell. The iron bars were enough to tell him that. But what had been that…_pressure_? He had justly felt as if he was about to die. He had never truly felt that experience before, and had no want to do so again; his heart was stilling beating at an abnormal pace. He gave a rather shaky sigh; his throat was stinging as well, as he despairingly rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. He would quite like for all the bad things to stop now. It was disquieting his mind far too much.

* * *

Before Harry could think anymore on how this situation was removing the last remnants of his sanity, a sound resounded through the quiet. Harry jerked his head up. It took him a moment to identify it as a piano. Someone, somewhere in the house, was playing a piano. At this point, Harry didn't much care who was playing, all that mattered that whoever _was_, was very good. Very good indeed. Harry closed his eyes and let the music wash over him, soothing his shot nerves. It was a light little melody, but one that seemed bittersweet. It haunted through the house very well, in Harry's opinion. 

He opened his eyes once again, determined to find the source of the music. He stalked up the staircase of the entrance hall, and turned right, following the sound through several floors until he came upon a sort of sitting room, which spilled over into a balcony.

As soon as he entered the room, however, the music faded. He knew it had originated from here, as some of the notes still lingered in the air. He sighed forlornly and rested his head against the doorjamb. The piano sat proudly before a set of shuttered French doors, the small balcony to the left of them. He walked slowly to the railings, and lent over slightly to observe the sky. The thick blanket of cloud hadn't left since yesterday. In fact, it appeared to have condensed; they sat heavy in the sky, just waiting to pour. He turned still faintly wet eyes to the ground. The dead front lawns could be seen to one side, but on the other were the autumn remains of what was surely a fabulous rose garden.

Harry was not really seeing it however; he was busy mentally scolding himself. Harry had not shed tears in years; he couldn't even remember the last time. So to be reduced to such a thing by a _room _of all things, was to Harry, nothing short of shameful. He accepted that the risk of death by suffocation had been distressing, but the tears were completely uncalled for!

But Harry knew why this place was getting to him so effortlessly. He had faced far worse things in his life, but he had never been so alone before, so isolated from everyone else. Harry was certain that if he wasn't here all by himself, then he would probably wholly appreciate the quietness. He sighed again, he just needed to stop letting these things get to him. Surely nothing could surprise him anymore.

Harry shook himself. Feeling a little better with his new mental philosophy, he decided that it was safe to explore a few more places before it got dark again.

* * *

Harry glared at the map, hoping that the highly sought after effect of spontaneous combustion would occur. He had been walking about this place for two days now and he _still _kept getting lost. At the present moment, Harry had absolutely no idea where he was, not even what floor he was currently standing on. 

Suffice to say, it was irritating him slightly. He had been wandering around for several hours, trying to get his bearings and possibly even memorise a couple of routes round the castle. He had failed miserably, if there was ever any doubt. The thing really grating on his nerves though, was the unshakable urge that he was being watched again. It was making him vastly uncomfortable. Not to mention that the occasional tingling in his scar had decided to ascend into a nasty prickling sensation. Perhaps he was more than _slightly_ irritated.

At the moment Harry was standing in a sort of confluence of various hallways. Thus, the reason for his confusion, and subsequent frustration. Knowing which corridor led where was nearly impossible. Some of his anger also stemmed from the fact that night was beginning to set in. Harry did not want to be caught out of his tower after dark. Enough traumatising incidents happened to him in the daylight.

He looked around hopelessly, perhaps some clue would reveal itself. He spotted a pair of double doors to the side, slightly ajar. The sky rumbled once more, causing Harry to jitter forwards. That was another thing; the sky finally seemed to be giving in to the storm that had been threatening for days, and the affect it was having on the general ambience was making Harry anxious. Well, more than he normally was anyway.

Harry, as soon as he saw the double doors, felt the mounting temptation to fling them open. He resisted of course, but the impulse to see what lay behind remained. A light smattering of rain struck the upper windows, making a tick noise against the glass. Harry moved nervously towards the doors, the day's happenings had made him somewhat wary of entering unknown rooms. The doors were merely resting shut; a little push and they would glide open. Just one look and he would leave.

Harry wished he hadn't of looked.

It was a small, enclosed, cosy-looking room. Perhaps it would have been an office; it had a weathered, high backed chair and a snug carpet, along with a gilded fireplace. But that was not what Harry saw as he gently pushed the door open. His attention was fixed on what was lying, unmoving, on the shag rug.

A boy, no older than his late teens. He was, unquestionably, dead. His eyes had a thick glaze and his pale skin was grey round the edges. Harry stood frozen on the threshold, his breathing shallow, yet oddly calm.

This must be the boy Neville spoke of, Mark Evans, who disappeared a week ago. Harry managed a swallowed and moved slowly closer to the body laying on the floor. It was not the first time he had seen a corpse, but he was struck again by how still it was, almost peaceful in a perverse way.

His mind wasn't working particularly well. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should be doing something. Call someone…do something…anything, yet he did not move, nor did he cease his staring.

He did not feel upset, or frightened. In fact he didn't feel much at all, apart from a little shock. He had just not …expected to see it. That was all. Nothing else.

Harry moved away a few steps, seemingly deliberating on something internally, before he quickly grabbed a sheet that was lying over a chair near to him, haphazardly throwing it over the body and rapidly backing out of the room, shutting the doors closed behind him.

On the other side of the doors, Harry was still vacantly staring in the same direction since he had seen what was inside the room. He knew he shouldn't just be leaving it there but he had the oddest notion that it would take care of itself. And frankly, Harry just didn't want to deal with it.

Still gazing at the door, it took Harry a moment to realise that the moon had risen and that night had well and truly arrived. He jumped at another grumble from the sky and hastened off as fast as possible back to the tower, not caring whether he took the correct corridor or not.

* * *

A shadow emerged from darkness, flashing silver eyes focused on the covered body on the rug. Due to the random placement of the sheet, half of the person's face was still clearly visible. 

Draco's lip curled in distaste as he glanced at the immobile figure. The boy had tasted far from palatable. With an aggravated sigh, Draco crouched down. He supposed he really should have disposed of it straight after he had fed, but the boy had left such an unsatisfying aftertaste that at the time, he had had no desire to set eyes on the thing again. Another sound of irritation whistled through his teeth. He thoroughly detested having to clean up after meals.

A lightening flash illuminated pale skin and silky platinum hair. A few broken words were uttered and a flare momentarily lit the room. When it faded, the shadow was gone, as was the body of Mark Evans; leaving behind only a little blood staining the shag rug, to prove he had ever existed at all.

* * *

**A/N: Some reassurance that I'm not just writing some recycled shit would be great round about now. I have never fought so much with a chapter. I really hope my next one is better. **


	6. Charmant

**Disclaimer: **I do not in anyway own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Ok, this chapter is a little later than usual, but well, I've bin having problems with this one. Over teh next weel or so I am really busy, seeing relatives, traveling to Edinburgh, and stuff, so...yeah. Another chappy should be about on Tuesday sometime. Well, Harry and Draco finally meet! Harry might appear to be a bit of a pansy in this one. But he is just being subjected to...draco...for the first time...hehehe...yeah. He WON'T be as bad next chapter. Promise. I hope you like the characterisation of Draco! Please review and tell me what you think.**

**Warnings:** See first chapter, SLASH

* * *

**Charmant**

Harry was wide-awake, quivering under his blanket. He was at the present time sitting on his bed trying to keep himself as dry as possible.

The storm had broken several hours ago and, unfortunately for Harry, the window in his room, not only was particularly large, it also had no glass in it. And it was right over his bed. Suffice to say, it's easy to see where _this_ is going. The rain was spilling through the open window like a waterfall, accompanied by a particularly vicious spray, which was making sure he get equally sodden all over.

Not only was he getting wet, the thunder and lightening seemed to be originating from somewhere directly above his head. They seemed to occur nearly simultaneously; he could see the light flashes striking a only few hundred yards from the house and the thunder was deafening his hearing. Harry gave a small jump and a wince at a particularly loud thunderclap. He had always been a great lover of storms in the past, but this one really passed the limit; he might as well be standing in it. He was freezing cold and there was no chance whatsoever that he would get any sleep that night. He glanced nervously at the door; he was _really_ cold. He had been deliberating the decision of whether he should seek out a warmer room to spend the night for the past half an hour. He knew he _wanted_ to go, he just didn't know whether he _should._

At that moment a strong gust of wind blew right through the window, bringing a hail of icy water down on his back, and lowering the room temperature to artic proportions. That was it! He was out of here!

He tore off the sodden blanket and, still shaking lightly, set off down the stairs.

* * *

Harry walked cautiously through the hallways, arms unconsciously wrapped about himself. The cool marble flooring, even with the carpets, wasn't doing much to warm him up any. Harry gave a start as another lightening flash lit the sky. Walking around in the dark was not helping his fraying nerves, or his paranoia. However, at least now Harry felt perfectly justified in his agitated state. He was trying to make his way around with hardly any light to guide him and Harry knew for a fact that there really _was_ a murderer on the loose. A little jumpiness never hurt anyone. 

He turned yet another corner. Where the hell were the bedrooms in this place? Harry had given up trying to use the map; it was too dark and even in the day it was about as useful as a nightlight. And those, during the daylight hours, were pretty useless. Harry gave a sigh; this wasn't getting him anywhere. Still, it was better than if he had stayed in the tower, where he would have most probably caught pneumonia and died sometime during the night. Yes, much better to take his chances in the, relatively, _warm_ body of the house.

Harry took a moment to muse how wet the tower room was going to be in the morning. He could almost imagine the puddles that would need to be sloshed out. Hopefully his possessions would remain at least somewhat dry. Before he left, he had put his bag under the bed, hoping it would avoid most of the rainwater. He had also used the blanket to cover the top of the mattress; he had no desire to have to use a damp bed the next day. He shuddered slightly, that would be nauseating in the extreme.

During his musings, Harry had completely lost track of where he was. Not that it mattered really; he couldn't find his way in the day, let alone in the dark. But still, if he couldn't find those damn bedrooms, he may just have to return to the tower. The mere thought spurred him on through the complicated maze of corridors. As he trotted down another set of stairs, something caught his eye. It was a warm, flickering light, seeping out from under a doorframe.

His heart leapt to somewhere in his throat; he could feel it pounding harder than usual. That light had to come from somewhere, most likely a fire of some sort, a candle perhaps. It flickered again; make that a lot of candles. It wouldn't do if a fire had somehow started and then proceeded to set the house ablaze now would it? The fact that the house burning down was the more desirable conclusion did not seem to occur to Harry as he moved forwards towards the door. He gently put his hand on the handle, and pushed lightly. The door swung with no resistance and Harry stepped inside.

And immediately became routed to the spot, the door fluttering shut behind him.

* * *

There, lying lazily on a chaise couch with a wineglass draped between lithe fingers, in front of a crackling fire, was a person. The flames lit the man's face artistically, highlighting his refined features and pale blonde hair. 

Harry immediately knew where he had seen him before; the boy from the portrait. His first thought, oddly enough, was that he had been right; the boy _had_ grown up to be very striking. His next, was the shock that that boy and the man before him had to be one and the same, yet he should have been dead for at least 300 years! And yet, here he was, looking very real indeed.

Harry finally found his voice. It was smaller than he remembered.

"Are you…Draco?"

Draco tilted his head. So his quarry had finally arrived? He regarded Harry through half-lidded eyes and sipped the contents of his wineglass musingly. The mortal in front of him _was _quite pretty; 5'7 in height if he wasn't mistaken, below average for a man, but not embarrassingly so, mussed pitch black hair, really rather fine green eyes and a pulse that promised to be delicious. Not bad at all.

"Yes. That is my name." Draco affirmed.

Harry desperately tried not to shiver. Draco's voice was low, came purring past his lips and was veritably dripping with seduction. It was a hard task. Draco continued,

"But, I'd rather like to learn yours…"

Harry regarded the other man warily. He may be …nice looking…but he could not forget who, or perhaps _what_, this person was. He still couldn't move from the place he was standing, it was as if he had been paralysed. Harry tried to search Draco's face for some sign of what he was thinking. Instead, he ended up noticing a pink tongue come from between equally pink lips to lick at a small smear of red left from the last sip of the wineglass. Harry's followed its motion, nearly hypnotised with the movement. Harry's eyes flickered to Draco's stormy grey ones. It was then that Harry noticed the other was smirking at him. To his eternal horror, he felt a blush start to bloom across his cheeks.

Harry frantically searched for something, anything, else to focus his gaze on. His eyes landed on the wineglass nestling in snow fingers. It was quite exquisite, clear crystal, with simple but elegant design and…. was wine supposed to be that thick?!

Harry turned wide eyes to the figure lying so indolently upon the chaise. He was met with a very amused stare. Harry found his voice again.

"Harry," he breathed out, "that's my name."

Draco's smirk became positively predatory, and Harry was rather reminded of a shark that had spotted fresh meat. The worst however, must have been the rather pointed canines that peeked out of his mouth. Harry swallowed, forcibly reminded of whom the other in their stilted conversation was.

"You…you killed all the people, that boy…" Harry lifted his head slightly, "didn't you?"

The blonde gave a graceful shrug as he fluidly raised himself of the couch and fixed Harry with a sharp stare.

"I get hungry" he said shamelessly, and with that tipped back the remnants of his wineglass.

Harry once again admired the thickness of the liquid and felt nausea rise in his stomach as he recognised what it was. He looked up again just in time to see Draco run his tongue over something white and pearly; which indisputably had to be a fang. Harry stuttered slightly, feet still persistently stuck in position.

"Just _what_ are you?!" questioned Harry meekly. He felt as if he was being suffocated by the other being's presence. It pressed heavily on his chest, making his breathing hitch irregularly.

"Oh come now Harry, you look intelligent, surely you know, …_deep down._" Draco purred back.

This time Harry couldn't restrain the shiver that passed through him. His voice just washed over him like molten chocolate, rich, dark and full of sin. Harry looked away, his blush deepening at his treacherous thoughts. Why…why was he thinking these things! When Harry looked up again, Draco was much closer than he had been mere seconds before. Harry idly noticed that Draco's elongated teeth, even with his mouth firmly closed, were still poking through his lips. They also seemed far more prominent from only two feet away.

"…You're a… vampire…?" It appeared that Draco's presence was also diminishing his voice as well, not only his ability to breathe properly.

" My, you _are _a clever little thing aren't you" said Draco patronisingly, making full use of the four inch height difference between them.

The spark of subsequent anger, roused from the belittling tone he was addressed with, managed to somewhat free him from his dazed trance.

"Don't talk to me like that!" Harry spat, " _you_ are the one who's been fucking with my mind, which you had absolutely no right to do, _you_ are the one who is some creepy blood stalker and _you _are the one who is only a shadow here!"

Draco blinked, looking a little taken aback. Not from what Harry had accused him of, he was just a little staggered that the smaller man was no longer enthralled by his presence, like most mortals. He quickly smirked once again, wider than the last time. He shouldn't have been surprised; from the start he had sensed that Harry was …different. It was what made him so interesting after all. As a result of his thoughts, it took Draco another moment to process _what _Harry had said. He found it quite amusing that his little prey would dare say such things to him, even though Harry knew what he was.

" 'Creepy blood stalker' hmmm? You really shouldn't talk that way to someone who, by your own admission, could kill you in an instant…" Draco trailed meaningfully.

Harry did not back down. _He _was the reason for all his mental trauma from the past few days, like hell he would be pushed around any longer!

"You wouldn't though, would you?" Harry said in a low voice, eyes fixed accusingly on Draco's face.

Draco's eyes widened slightly and he looked a little unbalanced, as if this wasn't going the way he had expected.

"Why would you assume that? Everyone else who has ever dared to come to my house has met an untimely demise, what makes you think you are any different from anyone else?" Draco growled lowly in reply, his sudden loss of power in the conversation unnerving him slightly.

"Because I _am _different, aren't I?" queried Harry, finding lost confidence, " I have been here for well over two days now, and though you've definitely messed with head, you have done nothing in an attempt to actually to kill me! The only reason for that, that I can see is that there must be something about me that has prevented you from doing so!" Harry finished triumphantly.

Harry briefly remembered the room underneath the drawing room, but quickly dismissed it, not wanting his fragile assurance that he was not about to be eaten, shattered.

Draco was seriously unnerved now. The simple mortal had drawn conclusions about him, without knowing him at all, and had come to, sort of anyway, a correct answer. No one had _ever,_ in his long years of life read him quite so easily, or as quickly. Either Draco was losing his touch, or this Harry was very _different_ indeed. Draco preferred to think the latter; it was healthier on his ego.

Needless to say, Draco had had enough of his lack of control, he would not submit to the man in front of him.

"You know what? You're right, _Harry_." Draco slowly stalked forward. Harry, noticing this, tried to move, but his earlier paralysis was back again it seemed. Fuck!

Draco stopped right in front of him. "I'm afraid to say that I find you quite fascinating," he admitted.

Meanwhile, Harry, though the rest of his body refused to cooperate, had succeeded to avert his eyes to the fireplace, just over Draco's left shoulder. Due to Draco's new proximity, his cheeks were becoming disturbingly warm by now, and he felt it would only get worse if he actually looked at the blonde. Therefore, he was unprepared when he felt a cool finger make contact with his face.

Bottle green eyes snapped up, an odd mix of surprise and horror as the finger travelled down his cheek; surprise that the vampire (which he still wasn't _quite _getting to grips with yet) was actually touching him and horror that his blush was back. At full force too.

Harry tentatively looked up, eyes locking with stormy grey. Draco was now looking at him with an intensity and emotion in his gaze that was making him highly uncomfortable, and was making the irregular breath hitching come back…. Damn.

Draco gave a satisfied smile at the reaction. Harry looked delicious when confused, Draco decided. He would endeavour to recreate the expression as much as possible in the future. However, Draco had got too close, and the heartbeat that had been tormenting him the past two days was too tempting when he was so near, he couldn't help himself.

Draco lent forward, ignoring the pathetic little squeak from Harry, and started to nuzzle the others neck. It just smelt _so good_. He started to lick, tracing the vein, trying to find the best spot. The pulse was clouding his senses. Draco nipped lightly at the skin; by this point Harry's eyes had long fluttered closed, his body still refusing to move- though he was long past caring. Just one little taste, it promised to be so good. Draco nipped a bit harder, drawing a small amount of blood into his mouth. As Draco's fangs broke the surface of his skin, Harry couldn't help the breathless moan from escaping, it just felt… so… good….

Harry's little moan, however, broke Draco from his haze. The blood on his tongue, and their compromising position. It all came to him very quickly. Draco blinked and glanced up at Harry; his cheeks were flushed beautifully and his breathing shallow, eyes slightly glazed as he began to lift his lids. Draco blinked again in surprise. Draco had fed from a lot of people over the years and never had one had such a receptive response. Yes, feeding could be quite sexual at times, but never so …easily, and by so little... prompting. Yes, Harry was most definitely very different.

And said person was also beginning to realise what the vampire had just done. Draco had a feeling he did not want to witness the probably violent reaction, but then, his little minuo had tasted so sweet….

Harry finally wrestled himself out of his daze and quickly fixed Draco with a look of dismay, which quickly turned to indignation, "Wha…ba…neh…WHAT DID YOU JUST DO!"

Draco rapidly realised that he rather liked the way Harry looked while angry as well. His eyes seemed to sparkle with a fire Draco hadn't seen for centuries and made the brunette look so alive. Draco had to stop himself from smiling at the thought.

"Just getting a little taste, darling", Draco commented lazily in reply. "And as much fun as this little chat has been, I think I shall retire for the night. Goodnight little charmant!" And with that Draco lent back in towards Harry, and inhaled deeply, before sashaying out the room.

Leaving poor Harry wondering what the hell had just happened.

* * *

**A/N: Well,how do you like Draco's first appearance? There will be more on his thoughts next chapter, and the plot wil be moving on. To what, even I am not entirely sure. Remember to review! It'll make me happy...**

Minuo- Latin, means to let or draw blood, appropriate for what Draco had just done.

Charmant-French, means lovely or charming, I'm going for lovely, just because I don't like beau.

**Draco will use odd words like this occasionally. I find it fun! Until next time.**


	7. Uncanny Stalker

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own Harry Potter

**A/N: Sorry I've taken so long with this one. I have just been really busy this week and everything. I'm also going back to school next week so my updates will probably be about once a week. I've made this chapter longer though to help make up for it though! I also have more of an idea where this is going so yay! I also have only editted this chappy once, coz I really can't be bothered to do it again so I apologize for any mistakes now. Much more of Draco this chappy, hope you're happy, please review and tell me if you have comments on this chapter and stuff! More reviews, quicker I update too!**

**Warnings:** See first chapter, SLASH. Also light limes will probably become not so 'light'. hee.

* * *

**Uncanny Stalker**

Ten minutes later and Harry was still standing in the exact same spot Draco had left him. He was in a bit of a shock. Not only had he come face to face with a…vampire of all things; if that wasn't unbelievable enough, he had then had some sort of flirty conversation with him! And then, wonders of wonders, said vampire begins to…molest him…and he does absolutely nothing to stop it! What the holy fuck was going on?! He even…maybe…had liked the…molesting part. Just a teeny tiny bit… Again, what the fuck was happening!

Harry finally managed to bring himself out of his thoughts. He cast a glance at the fireplace; the flames were still flickering. He could hear the occasional crackle of embers. Harry blinked. Shouldn't it be raining too hard to hear that? He steadily walked to the window and rested his face against the cold glass. There was a light drizzle hitting the window, but the storm had otherwise blown over. He turned back around to face the door. As warm as this room was, he had no desire to spend too much time here; Draco may come back.

Harry didn't entirely know his thoughts about the vampire. Perversely, the fact that Draco hunted people down and drank them dry didn't really bother him. Harry took a moment to think this last thought through. He was quite sure that it _was _supposed to bother him. Maybe it was because he felt secure in the fact that Draco _didn't_ want to kill _him_. Harry mulled over that answer. No, that wasn't it. He frowned slightly, just, when he had looked Draco in the eye, even if he had been blushing (Harry winced at the thought), he had noticed something different in his gaze. It was the look of an exceptionally dangerous creature. And Harry seemed to accept that. He probably hadn't asked to have to drink blood to survive anyway, which was why vampires fed after all (Though apart from that, Harry had no idea what being a vampire might entail. It didn't matter at the moment). What Harry _had _been uncomfortable with was the unnecessary pawing. No matter what it _may _have felt like, tasting his blood and being all…close…was NOT under the things that Harry appreciated.

Harry sighed wearily, he didn't want to try to understand his thoughts at the moment; he was too tired. He supposed he should try to find his way back up to the tower, to a hopefully _dry_ bed. He wasn't holding much optimism on that front though; it had been bucketing it down directly onto his bed after all. Harry scowled to himself while cursing the weather, and left the room to try to navigate his way back to the tower.

Surprisingly it only took him ten minutes, though by this time he was already half asleep. He did not even take any notice of the copious amounts of water on the floor as he made his way to the bed. He tore off the blanket and collapsed onto the mattress, eyes falling within seconds.

* * *

Frail light peeked over the horizon and began to inch through the open window. A soft breeze accompanied it, still cool from the storm of the previous night. It twined its way around the room until it found a few loose strands of blonde hair to muss, midway up the wall and near the bed.

Indeed, Draco was sitting, suspended upon the wall, as to have the best view of the bed's occupant, who was still tucked away in dreams. Draco himself had not dreamt for centuries, those were reserved for mortals it seemed-for humans. He vaguely wondered whether he missed it; it had been so long ago since he had dreams grace his slumber that he had almost completely forgotten the sensation. Though he did recall that he had hardly ever remembered them anyway, except the nightmares, that is. Yes, he could recollect those quite clearly, even though that was before he had gained his perfect memory. Oh, it may take a few moments to remember something, but it was all there, all three hundred and forty eight years of existence from when he was Turned.

He sighed almost silently to himself. He had not had such disheartening thoughts for a while now; he tried his hardest to suppress them. It was best for his health; the thought of the rest of eternity alone had the annoying tendency to drive one to suicide. In fact amongst the 'immortals' it was the highest cause of death. That in itself was rather depressing. If nothing else Draco had always been a survivor, the fact that he still remained in existence at all was testament to that, so such trains of thought were normally buried down as deep as possible.

And the creature on the bed was stirring them all up again.

Draco cocked his head to the side, as an animal might, when attempting to work out something particularly difficult. His slate eyes were fixed on the slow rise and fall of Harry's chest. Draco appeared fascinated with the gentle movement.

And indeed he was. Draco only had to inhale when he wished to speak, but the fragile being in front of him, close enough to touch, depended on breathing to continue to live at all. Draco had long ago lost such a dependency and since then had never paid much attention to it other than, when it stopped, his meal was dead. Now he found himself ensnared by the motion.

A light frown began to form on the blonde. Why did he find everything that this little mortal did so enrapturing? Why was he so interested? He had never shown himself in such a way in all his long life. The boy knew his name, had spoken with him, knew what he was for fucks sake, and on top of that, was perfectly alive!

Draco's half lidded eyes followed the move as Harry shifted slightly in his sleep. He had to admit to himself at least that he found his little minuo exceedingly …adorable…at times. He had the most amusing reactions to things. He was also different in a way he had never quite encountered in a human before. From his observing of the brunette, (which he done near constantly since Harry had arrived) he thought that the boy seemed…alone. Not physically, of course there was no one else, but _emotionally_ alone. There was just this look in his eyes that reminded Draco hauntingly of himself, back when he had been a lost little child. Draco sighed to himself again. What was he thinking? He had to stop this sickeningly emotional reminiscing and get back to the focus of staring at Harry while he slept!

…Wait, that came out wrong…or did it…? Draco mulled this over for a moment before disregarding it as unimportant.

The beautiful and at times thoroughly endearing creature that lay on the bed had tasted good last night. Far too good for Draco's peace of mind; it should not have been possible for _anyone _to taste that exquisite. Draco was also slightly disturbed by the lack of self-control from the night previous. He had very nearly almost plunged his fangs right into Harry's neck. Which, needless to say, probably wouldn't have been good for his health. Draco didn't fully comprehend why yet, but he knew that he most certainly did _not_ want to kill him. He _was_ very interested in making him stay. With the chance of good company and frankly, blood to die for (Draco internally smirked at that), why would Draco pass that up? He had already dubbed Harry his little minuo after all. There was no question that Harry was _his_, as far as Draco was concerned, as soon as he had set eyes on Harry, the boy had been his to claim as his own. Vampires could be very funny when it came to things they thought of as their _property._

Of course the boy in question did not know any of this. He was still sleeping away on the slightly damp bed. Draco continued to stare at Harry's form, not thinking much of anything, just soaking up the view. He had decided he liked it very much, Harry looked so peaceful asleep, though he still believed he looked better when angered; it gave him an idea of what the other man would look like in the throws of passion.

Draco let his tongue slip over his lips at the thought, and continued his unwavering vigil of the figure on the bed.

* * *

Harry woke slowly, his mind gently lifting to awareness. He kept his eyes closed, however, enjoying the early morning sunlight bathing his body in a warming glow. The bed was still a little damp from the night before; much to Harry's disgust, but at the moment he was completely comfortable with staying where he was and preferably not moving for several more hours yet. He did not have to look to tell that it was still unnecessarily early. Harry was perfectly content to slip back to sleep.

A light scratching and a flutter of feathers, however, prevented Harry from doing so. He wrinkled his brow in irritation and hoped the noise would cease. Typically, it did not; in fact, it rather seemed to be getting louder, and therefore far more irritating. The addition of a small cooing sound finally made Harry snap his eyes wide open and look to for source of the sound. He glanced towards the window and immediately saw a wood pigeon perched on the sill, looking at him with an inquisitive gaze.

Unpleasantly reminded of the demon peacock from _hell_ that he had seen the other day, Harry scowled at the innocent bird and growled under his breath. He was still to lethargic to actually get up and shoo the thing however, so he settled himself back on the covers.

He gave a sigh and took a quick glance about the room, annoyed that his rest had been disturbed.

He rapidly caught sight of a dark shadow, perching _mid-way on the wall_ and promptly let out a high pitched shriek and rolled of the bed, taking the moist blanket with him.

Draco just looked horrendously amused.

Harry didn't like suddenly being in such a vulnerable position on the floor and peeked his head over the edge of the bed to catch another look at his visitor. He quickly affirmed that it was indeed the blonde vampire he had thought it was… Fuck.

The wood pigeon made another coo noise, momentarily directing Harry's attention to the window. As soon as he had done so Harry realised that, yes, it was light outside. He glanced back to Draco, who did not seem the least perturbed by the sunlight filtering through the window. What the fuck?

Draco, noticing his confusion, tried his best not to laugh, settled for the most depreciating smirk he had instead and waited for the other man to finally say something. No doubt it would be incredibly entertaining.

"Why…why can you still be here? Shouldn't vampires be at least a bit afraid of the sun?" Harry questioned shakily. He had really hoped that he would at least be free during the daylight hours. It appeared not.

Draco smiled indulgently at the confused picture Harry made. "You can't believe all you hear, the things those mortals come up with, some of them are just plain absurd." Draco sighed and drawled out the rest, "To answer your question, vampires dislike light as much as any nocturnal creature does; we work better in the darkness and so remain there…most of the time. _I_ can deal with the day perfectly fine thank you."

Looking at the unbearably smug man in front of him, Harry could only summon one thought to mind, which happened to be how much he hated his life right about now. He didn't dwell on this for too long however and moved onto more pressing matters.

"Would you like to tell me then why you are in my room then?" Harry asked with a fair amount of trepidation, he could only hope it wasn't something murderous. Or perverted.

"Why, I was only enjoying the most beautiful view you create while sleeping lovely," answered Draco with a rather lecherous look on his face.

Harry was sure that at the moment he would prefer the vampire to be planning his demise. He felt rather exposed at that point, like he wasn't wearing any clothing. He quickly checked. Yep, still wearing the clothes from last night.

"And besides, this is _my_ house, so this is technically _my_ room."

Harry was now entertaining thoughts of how he himself could kill the man in front of him. It was sounding better by the second. Any fear he would have had of Draco was quickly replaced by annoyance or irritation. A small part of him perhaps even enjoyed the company, not that he would ever admit to that.

Harry mustered the fiercest glare he could and quite plainly told Draco with his eyes to _piss off_. Draco merely grinned in response and seemingly melted into the shadows of the corner.

Harry sighed in relief, glad that the blonde was gone. For now at least. Draco had the most infuriating habit of making him feel not only inferior but also incredibly stupid at the same time. And he had only met him twice!

Harry grumbled to himself as he realised that the floor was splattered periodically with freezing puddles of water from the storm last night, and that he had the misfortune to land in one when he fell off the bed. He gave another despondent sigh.

Harry had the unshakable feeling that today was going to be a very trying day.

* * *

His theory was proved mere minutes later. Considering that he had hardly eaten anything whilst he had been staying at the house, it was incredibly surprising to find that he had run out of food so quickly. The Ginny-made sandwiches were gone, and so were the random assortments of fruit that he had snuck in with him. The revelation truly stopped him in his tracks, after everything that had happened over the past three days; not having anything to eat was something he had not expected to happen.

As a result Harry just stared blankly for a few minutes before deciding to do something about his current dilemma. He gave a groan of exasperation. He would have to go back into town, find a shop, and buy himself some sustenance. And _then _make his way back. This little trip that he was required to make, would cause a whole heap of trouble, he was sure. He just _knew_ from the shiver that made its way up his spine.

He gave the contents of his bag another appraisal. Slightly battered recording equipment lay scattered about at the bottom. For the first time Harry remembered what he was actually there for; yet he had no desire whatsoever to do what he was ordered. Harry gave a rub to his temple, trying to soothe the stabbing pain that had accompanied his thinking session. He quickly resolved to think about his veritable mountain of problems later. Food first.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Harry had just made it down to the entrance hall before trouble no.1 made an appearance. He paused in his strides on the dusty marble floor to glance above his head, only to find Draco reclining idly on some railings of a raised balcony Harry had previously not noticed before. He presumed it was because the platform was directly above the front doors. The sight of his uncanny stalker did not help to improve Harry's mood.

"Why do you care? I can leave whenever I want." Harry said with more confidence than he actually felt. He didn't doubt that Draco could easily stop him if he wished to.

Draco simply began to inspect his nails unconcernedly, not dignifying Harry with a response to such a dull suggestion. Harry rapidly broke under the silence.

"I'm going out in search of food if you must know. I, unlike you, don't expect it to just come to me," he said irritably. Draco wasn't unnerving, as much as irritating him.

"Oh, I have to go out to feed sometimes little charmant. In fact, in the past I would often roam the towns" Draco tilted his head as to survey Harry all the better. "I just haven't done so lately. Maybe I should…" he trailed off to himself.

"Well, whatever. I'm going out. If you're so desperate without me then you'll be happy to know I'll be back before bed time" Harry growled out derisively.

Draco merely continued his scrutiny of Harry for a few more moments before smoothly dropping to the floor, without making a single sound apart from the slight rush of wind his descent caused. Now that the vampire was at the same level, Harry was a bit more uncomfortable with his presence and started slightly as Draco slid over the marble towards him.

"Well, lead on." Draco said magnanimously, his smirk revealing the tips of his teeth. Harry felt his heart rate rise as he spluttered, "What?! Are you in some way implying that you're coming with me?!"

Draco repeated the same indulgent smile from the night before; the one that made Harry feel he was about five and made his blood boil with indignation,

"Why yes Harry. How clever you are to realise."

Harry scowled; he did not appreciate the belittling, "No way in hell are you coming! Why would a fucking _vampire_ want to come out during the day anyway? You, around other people? Fuck no! How damn weird would that be? Besides, I don't want, nor need you to come…. So there!"

Harry was well aware that his little rant not only made him sound like a small child throwing a temper tantrum, but that it was also completely pointless. He didn't know much about Draco, but he was sure that he nearly always got his way.

"Really? And I suppose you know _how_ to get back to town, and you know _where_ you are going?" At Harry's mute silence he continued, his voice lowering to that enchanting, compelling timbre. "I want to know everything about my little minuo _Harry_, and I _always _get what I want." At some point, Draco had closed the distance and was now about half an inch from Harry's nose. Harry swallowed convulsively and managed a small nod in acquiescence.

Draco gave his predatory grin and bowed Harry out the door as he passed. Their little 'trip' would be extremely amusing for him.

* * *

"You're absolutely incorrigible, you know that?"

Draco stopped walking at the statement and when Harry looked back at him, he saw a slightly distressed expression. Puzzled by the emotion that Harry had not yet seen on the others man face before he paused as well.

"Why does everyone always say that about me?" Draco asked to himself in a small voice. It wasn't hard for Harry to hear the amusement in the comment, however and he quickly turned back around with a snort of disgust, determined to keep on walking.

They were at the moment walking _back _to the house, or as Draco had called it, Malfoy Manor. Harry preferred 'house'. He was also walking as quickly as he possibly could, desperately hoping he could lose the other in the multitude of corridors in the converted castle, but sincerely doubting it. Draco did live there after all. For nearly 350 years at that. Yes, Harry knew how old Draco was. It was one of his first questions to the man. And Harry's desperation at getting away from the blonde wasn't that he detested the company, merely that he really needed to get his thoughts in some form of order.

Their little excursion into town that had begun several hours ago had been possibly the strangest in the whole of Harry's life. Between the odd bantering conversations of small talk that he and Draco had engaged in, and the mere novelty of the sight of the dangerous vampire not only being in the daylight (Harry personally believed that Draco looked far better at night, not that he was thinking about such things of course) but surrounded by perfectly normal, _vulnerable _people, the whole experience had been incredibly unnerving.

The worst being that Harry was beginning to come to the horrifying conclusion that perhaps he…enjoyed…Draco's company, as slippery the velvet creature was. Harry gave a sigh; his head was hurting again. He sent a sidelong glance to the vampire to the right of him.

His stride was graceful as he kept pace with Harry easily. The wind had stirred again, sending the leaves that lay at the sides of the road into the air, twisting in patterns and giving the day an ethereal feel. It lifted the silver strands of Draco's hair and caused odd tingles to run across Harry's scar. He ignored the sensation, however, and continued his observation of Draco. He was undeniably beautiful; elegant and with refined features, not to mention his stormy grey eyes that seared through Harry's mind whenever he looked at him. Harry blushed slightly at his thoughts and determinably turned his head away.

He didn't see Draco's fond smile as he made his way down the path by the yew hedges.

Luckily, when they returned Draco quickly melted out of sight. Quite literally too. A little confused as to where the vampire had gone so suddenly, Harry nevertheless shrugged it off and made his way to the tower. He was glad to see the puddles from that morning had departed. He fell on top of the bed. He gave a small sound of revulsion at the still soggy blanket he was lying on. It appeared that stone dried quicker than fabric. Wonderful.

He threw the blanket to the floor and kicked off his worn shoes. Another sigh and Harry let his eyes fall shut; it had been a long walk to town and back, and Draco's peculiar form of seductive conversation had left him exhausted. It was early in the afternoon; surely it would be all right to take a little nap? Yes, just for a…little… while….

Harry was asleep within moments.

* * *

He stumbled onto the path, falling to his knees. The stone slabs under his hands were covered in mud; that wasn't right. The paths, the gardens; they were always clear and tidy. He curled his hands into fists, the dirt trapping under his fingernails, his breath catching in his chest sharply. A scratching came from nearby and he darted his head up, searching for the source. A monstrous pale bird with violent red eyes skittered down the path and rushed by him, ripping into him viciously as it passed with its talons, blood spurting onto the ground in a wide spread, tears mingling with the dirt on the path. The white phantom shrieking into the night as it faded into the dark again.

He restrained a sob, biting lips together fiercely, struggling to stand, swaying. Shouts, shrieking cries and footsteps echoed down the lane. He restrained another cry of fear, but he couldn't stop the shaking, or the traitorous beating of his heart. It was pounding away, so loud, so hard. Tears stained his face. They would find him, they would hunt him, they would-

The screams became louder, he had to flee, had to run. Never stop running. They would find him. He stumbled down the path, round the house, past the gate, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He turned the corner, there was growling and a snarl. He gave another cry, this time of terrified pain. More blood sprayed to the ground as he gave a yelp. He had to run! It hurt so much-but he had to flee. He fell back, struggling to run back the way he had come, he had to get away. His feet slipped on the blood, he fell to the side, the footsteps were getting closer, and his heart was giving him away, and he was so scared, more tears reached the stone. He had to-

Harry snapped his eyes open, the scar on his forehead stinging painfully, the image of thick, red blood still scoured across his vision. His breath was erratic as he desperately tried to draw in oxygen.

"Shhh, shh. Hush now."

Came a soothing whisper as silver eyes appeared in front of his vision. The red began to fade as Harry began to calm, Draco still hushing him and gently telling him to breathe. Harry gripped his arms tightly; glad not to be alone. It took him only half an hour before he slipped back to less troubled dreams, Draco still half cradling him, wondering of the dreams his little charmant was experiencing.

* * *

**A/N: So how was it? Input much appreciated, next chappy will be setting things up for chapter 9, when all hell shall break loose, and the plot really gets going! Hah! Guesses of what the connection of Harry's scar is, and on what the dreams are about! **


	8. Night Time Gardens

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Wow, this chapter turned out longer than I thought. I'm afraid I've only edited this one once as well, I'm just too tired and I want it out as soon as possible. I'm also back at school now-which sucks-so updates may be a little slower, though if I don't update for two weeks, feel free to yell at me to get a 'fuckin move on!'. Hee. Ok, this chappy has a bit of implications of Draco's past and sets up things for next chapter, where everything is gonna happen! Oh and I hope you like the harryxdraco at the end, it wasn't planned, it just came to me, so I hope you like!**

**Warnings:** See first chapter, SLASH.

* * *

**Night Time Gardens**

When Harry finally woke, he wished for nothing more than to fall back to dreams. He was so comfortable where he was and so calm. Calmer than he had been in a long time; he hadn't noticed, but he had been carrying more tension in his shoulders then he had ever thought. He gave a small, slightly muffled sigh of weary contentment and buried further into the presence beside him….

…wait…why was someone in his bed?

Oh. Draco.

Even more surprising was that Harry didn't snap awake at this and take a tumble off the bed in embarrassment. He merely remained where he was, curios about how Draco had slight warmth to him, though he was much cooler in temperature than anyone he had met before. To be expected, considering Draco was dead. Or at least Harry presumed he was. It never occurred to Harry that this was an odd thought.

He couldn't fall asleep again unfortunately, not when he was cuddled up on his bed with a vampire. Huh, now there was a sentence he had never thought he'd think. Harry gave a dozy little groan and let his eyes slip open. He ended up staring right into grey ones.

"Don't you _ever_ need to sleep?"

"Yes," Draco gave a slow blink, "just not nearly as much as you do."

Harry muttered a dark "Typical" under his breath and moved away from the languid blonde. He stretched, misjudged the length of the mattress, and toppled right of the bed and out of sight. Letting another, more defeated, sigh escape him, Harry dragged himself up and rested his elbows on the windowsill, ignoring Draco for the present. His mind was too embroiled in slumber at the moment to really care for anything at the moment.

He couldn't have been sleeping long; the sun was only just dipping beneath the horizon. Frowning, he wondered about his latest dream. He only hesitated to call them nightmares because he felt the word did not properly term them. For the past few months he had frequently had dreams that held a frightening undertone of hunting, entrapment and fear. Those, however, had merely been flashes of jumbled up emotions and half remembered echoes. It was only lately, that he had begun to experience them in this way. They were still muddled, only snatches, but he could easily recall them in his waking hours.

He shivered slightly, and was dimly aware of Draco shifting to join him in his gazing at the heavens.

This last dream though, was the most vivid, and violent, yet. His scar tingled lightly, and Harry resisted the urge to rub at it; at least it wasn't painful anymore. He sighed again and chanced a sidelong look to Draco, who was only staring impassively out the window. A small breeze blew, rustling the trees, and causing more autumn leaves to drop and fall.

Harry followed the other man's gaze, and observed the grounds. The sun had fully set by now, and a glittering twilight had descended in its wake. The sky had become a deep plum velvet, the stars peeking out from the gaps between the few clouds remaining from the storm a day ago. A shrieking cry cut through the night, a sound that Harry knew came from one of the white peacocks, and sure enough a pale shadow could be seen gliding across one of the lawns. Harry couldn't help but admire that the surrounding scenery looked far more beautiful at night.

Harry glanced to Draco once again. His expression was inscrutable, face softly inexpressive; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Harry let himself properly look at him.

Draco was taller than himself, but not tall enough to make him awkward in any way, unlike Ron who was downright lanky. His skin was almost pale enough to see the veins, yet managed not to make him look sickly, which was quite miraculous. He had silky, blonde hair that was nearly pale enough to rival his pallor. And Harry couldn't be entirely sure, what with the clothing, but he was quite certain that Draco was equally well sculptured as his features elsewhere as well.

Harry fought his blush valiantly and was rewarded when it turned out only a dull pink glow across his cheeks.

Harry, however, frowned at the said clothing on Draco's form, and not because it was there. Not at all.

Draco was wearing a flowing white shirt, the first few buttons missed off of course. Bloody vampire. His trousers were very fine and black, made of a material Harry couldn't possibly hope to name and silver buckled boots. In all, the vampire was well turned out. The same vampire who lived in a dilapidated wreck of a house. Something certainly was amiss here.

Harry let it go though, and returned to staring out the window. Everything was too peaceful at the moment to disturb it with anything. They both easily settled into a comfortable silence. Harry was therefore surprised when Draco broke it after a while of seemingly introspective quiet.

"Do you have a like for gardens Harry?" Draco murmured. It was so soft Harry nearly didn't hear him. He turned to look at the vampire; he was still gazing out into the night.

"I guess so. When- when I lived with my aunt, I, I was the one who- who looked after the garden. I always did like the flowers" Harry finished just as softly in return. His aunt had _forced_ him to do the gardening, but he had enjoyed it more than others things he had to do. Even weeding was better than bleaching the kitchen floor, which Petunia had refused to provide gloves for, he remembered belatedly.

Draco finally twisted to face him and fixed him with a penetrating gaze. One that seemed to just _say_ that he knew more than what Harry had just commented. Harry met him evenly though, still feeling extraordinarily serene. After only a moment or two, Draco withdrew his stare, apparently satisfied for the time being.

"The private gardens are far superior to these." Draco hesitated, "Perhaps you would like to see them? I don't think you'll sleep much tonight." He finished with a slightly more mirthful expression on his face.

Harry, however, was confused at this. He had walked around outside behind the house and had not seen any such 'private garden', nor had he seen it from any of the various windows he had passed by.

As if Draco had read his mind, which Harry wouldn't be entirely shocked if he had, he continued on, "you can only view them from my wing, or if you know how to reach them. They have become quite enclosed from the rest of the grounds over time."

"Oh."

"So, would you like to see them? They really are quite beautiful."

"Sure, not as if I have anything better to do" said Harry shrugging. "Wait, _my _wing?"

Draco just stood from his crouched position on the bed and answered with a magnanimous, "You'll see."

As Harry followed him out the door, he couldn't help but contemplate that Draco was far more mysterious than he had given him credit for.

* * *

After vainly attempting to memorise the way to…wherever it was they were going, and just finding himself dizzy for his trouble, Harry decided to just follow the man in front of him and observe from behind. And hope that he never had to come this way again by himself in future; he had more chance of successfully navigating his way to Moscow.

Just as Harry began to feel as if they would never reach their destination, Draco turned a corner ahead and they came face to face with a pair of cream coloured double doors; the golden handles not nearly as dull as the others Harry had seen. In fact, he had noticed as they were travelling, that the house had been becoming gradually cleaner as they went. These doors seemed to mark the entrance of hospitable lodging.

Draco slowed his pace and he gently pushed on the handles.

"This is the entrance to my wing of the house, and the most…comfortable too, surprisingly," he finished with a smirk.

Harry merely cast a doubtful look in reply. It might be cleaner, but he had yet to see any of the obvious former grandeur, and was therefore rather sceptical that this part of the house could be much greater than any other. Though, he supposed, if Draco was content to reside here, it must be, for Harry found it hard to imagine him being content with a normal set of rooms, let alone uncomfortable ones.

He was unprepared though, for what he actually saw as he stepped through the doorframe and so could not contain his surprise.

The marble, which he was accustomed to being hidden under several layers of dirt, was practically sparkling and was reflecting the low light from the few candles strewn across the walls. The panes of glass were clear and unbroken, some antique chairs sitting by a window were well polished and the upholstery was missing its usual moth eaten appearance. It all looked as if the whole area had been cast in a sort of stasis, as if it had never been touched since the time the house had fallen.

As Harry took a second glance though, he realised his mistake. Peering at a near by cushion, he realised that it was more restoration, rather than preservation. The floor had most definitely been buffed, and some of the _ancient_ furniture seemed suspiciously modern at another glance. And that made no sense at all.

Harry sent Draco, who was standing in the middle of the hallway, a quizzical glance, but was not rewarded as the man simply gave an infuriating look of authority before turning to stroll down the rest of the corridor and turned yet another corner. Harry cursed under his breath, muttering about the "superiority complexes" of "bloody vain vampires". Nevertheless, he hastened to catch up, he really didn't need to get lost at the moment; he would never find his way out.

He reached Draco just as the silver haired man opened a door, leading to a large master bedroom.

"My bedroom…" he trailed suggestively, purring into Harry's ear and stepped into the room, gliding over to the large bay windows on the far side.

Giving off another round of expletives at the small blush that had made its way upon his face, Harry joined Draco into the room, looking about him curiously.

It was a large, spacious room, with soft yellow walls and plush off white carpet underfoot. Two velvet armchairs sat by a small window in the corner, and on the front wall, standing as a proud centrepiece, was a magnificent bed, covered with Egyptian cotton sheets and silken throes; it looked unbelievably comfortable. There were a few oil paintings on the walls, one Harry recognised as who he presumed to be Draco's mother, Narcissa. He looked up curiously and saw a curling chandelier, with electrical lighting. Harry chanced another flick of his gaze to Draco, dying to ask how this part of the house had been refurbished.

"If you have a question, just ask," Draco turned over a shoulder to look back at him, a smirk threatening to make an appearance.

Harry made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat and leisurely walked to join him by the windows.

"You shouldn't read peoples mind you know. It's exceedingly rude".

Draco turned to him, looking rather amused, if the smirk that had broken free was any indication.

"Who says I'm reading your mind? Perhaps _you're _just that easy to read," he said teasingly.

Harry didn't dignify _that_ with a response and simply twisted to stare out the window. He was forced to hold back a start of astonishment, though the vampire still noticed.

"Beautiful aren't they?" said Draco softly.

Indeed they were; the 'private gardens' still retained much of there splendour.

There was a thick, moss like lawn, still lushly green, and a raised patio walkway directly below the windowsill. The slabs were grey, like the rest of the stone in the manor, but were jagged in there fitting, rather than compulsively neat. There was a large flowerbed to the right, and also by a low brick wall that marked the end of the grass. They were full of delicate little plants, with large elegant flowers. Harry absently noticed that nearly all of them bloomed at night; the season didn't seem to make any difference. There were plants and trees from all over the world, he could see a Japanese maple with rich wine leaves, and a thicket of bamboo by the brick wall. A thick oak tree obscured most of the left side, but Harry could make out a small waterfall and pool lurking round the corner. The only indication that it was autumn, were the golden and rust red leaves that were scattered on the ground. The scene was made even more ethereal by the moonlight that filtered down, giving the same impression as dew on spider webs.

"They're stunning," Harry affirmed quietly.

Draco too was gazing out the window, though his eyes showed he was distant, as if remembering something long forgotten. He spoke just above a low murmur, sounding like he was speaking more to himself than to Harry.

"My mother planted them,"

Harry turned at the sudden proclamation. When he saw Draco, he realised that he was obviously reminiscing something and silently let him continue. So far Draco had revealed next to nothing of himself.

"She loved the gardens and grounds. I never understood why she liked growing things so…. these gardens she planted herself, tended them; they were her favourites. She always stayed outside as much as she possibly could, bent over and getting dirt all over herself." Draco turned to face Harry, who was a little startled at the abrupt movement.

"I could never care for all of the grounds of course, but these I try my hardest to clear. My mother loved them so very much. I still don't understand the whole gardening thing though," he finished a little more light heartedly, smiling a little, his grey eyes focusing again.

Harry cast another appraisal of the gardens, now clearly seeing the love that had to have gone into their design. Something caught his eye however. On the right, next to a tall mint pine, was a towering gate that blended so well into the shadows that it was extremely difficult to see. It was about twice as tall as himself and was made from dark wrought metal, with both the bars and lock being thick. And Harry was sure they would be heavy; there were deep groves in circular arcs on the patio slabs from where the gates had ground open and shut. The strangest features however were the spikes. They were horizontal and ran all the way up and down the sides, right in the middle. They were rough and uneven, coming to a point and jutting out from the rest of the metal frame by several inches. The oddest thing though, was that they pointed into the garden, not out on the other side like he would have thought.

"Draco, why are there spikes on that gate?" Harry asked hesitantly. The entryway was at a dire contrast to the rest of the gardens.

Draco's eyes immediately hardened and he answered stiffly, " My… father… was known for his _eccentricity _at the best of times."

Harry took the hint and kept quiet on the subject, though he couldn't resist one last glance towards the rather sinister gateway.

Instead Harry mulled over what he had just heard from a few moments ago. When he had spoken of his mother, Draco had done so with a sort of tenderness Harry had never heard him speak with before, whilst his father was obviously a sore spot for him. Harry sighed mutely to himself; Draco just kept becoming more and more mystifying. From the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw one of the paintings shift slightly.

That led him to once again survey his surroundings and he saw a door he had previously not noticed as well. It was somewhat ajar, so Harry only had to lean forward a little to peek inside; he caught a glimpse of taps, marble and matte cream ceramic tiles. A bathroom obviously. Harry's interest was peaked again and he decided to call Draco on it.

"How is it, that the rest of the house is falling to pieces, yet here, not only is it in near perfect condition but has things like electricity?" asked Harry. He was insanely curious.

Draco gave a satisfied little chuckle, his mood lifted and Harry shivered violently as it washed over him, and prayed that the blonde hadn't noticed.

"I presume you spoke with that crazy old man who 'owns' this place, yes? Well, when he first 'bought' it, he was planning to refurbish it. I merely let him get so far before deciding he had done enough." At this point Draco smiled maliciously in remembrance of _how _he had resolved _that _situation.Suffice to say it had involved copious amounts of…drinking on Draco's part.

"If _my home _is to be remodelled I shall see to it myself. These rooms were damaged beyond repair but the rest of the house is perfectly salvageable, I won't let others ruin it," he continued smoothly.

Harry nodded in understanding, "Will you ever restore the rest of the place though? It would be beautiful I'm sure."

"Perhaps," said Draco musingly, "but unless there is…someone else to be here, I see no point. I sleep most of the time anyway."

"Why are you awake now then?" asked Harry accusingly. If Draco had been off sleeping somewhere his life would have been _so_ much simpler.

Draco locked his silver eyes with Harry's, his voice lowering to that rumbling purr, "I felt your arrival charmant, and you interest me so…" as he spoke, faster than Harry could blink, the vampire was next to him. Draco leaned in and a trailed a finger softly down the shorter man's cheek, causing Harry to shudder in its wake.

As Harry fought flashbacks of the previous night, Draco continued, "and I have no idea why. I find you…_**enchanting."**_ The last was accompanied by a sharp intake of breath as Draco began to nuzzle Harry's jaw.

The brunette wasn't blushing this time. He was far too involved in the sensations Draco was invoking. When he finally opened his eyes, the only thing he could see was the swirling silver of Draco's eyes; he was so close. Noses almost touching, Draco could feel every shallow breath Harry let fall onto his cheek. The dark haired man felt heady as his mind went hazy, and he felt his blood flowing faster.

Eyes slid closed as a small nudge brought them together, lips gently brushing against each other, sending chills through both of them before tentatively passing over. They pressed together once more, Draco bringing a palm to cup Harry's face, as their kiss became more fevered, Harry beginning to grip Draco's waist with one hand and with the other tousled silken strands of hair. He let out a small moan of pleasure and Draco began to trail nipping kisses down Harry's jaw line and down his neck, paying ardent attention to the jugular vein.

Harry was completely lost to the contact, his mind only registering delight as the vampire proceeded to lick his way back up his neck and down again. He didn't notice when grey eyes began to turn silver and as Draco's nips and kisses became harder_. It just felt so…uh… __**good.**_

Harry gasped as Draco began to suck on his neck, and was immediately taken into a full-mouthed kiss, tongues meeting each other fiercely as they both gave loud moans at the feeling. Harry fisted the hand in Draco's hair tighter. _So…good…_

Draco's teeth began to descend down into elongated fangs, scratching the delicate skin as he moved from Harry's mouth back to his neck, leaving red trails. He sucked the mark he had left a few moments ago and continued his little bites and searing kisses.

Draco's eyes became swirling silver as he suddenly bit down, hard, fangs sinking deep into flesh. Harry gave a pained cry, which rapidly became a loud shriek of pleasure as Draco lapped up dark, glistening blood from the wound on his neck. The sensation was giving him ecstasy.

From the moment the blood hit his tongue Draco lost it. His modest taste the night before was _nothing_ compared to this. _So sweet, so __**…warm…**__nugh… _He couldn't think of anything except the liquid sliding down his throat, murmurs of pleasure sounding in between swallows, one hand keeping Harry standing, the other stroking his hair and eliciting soft noises of appreciation.

That was until the blonde begun to feel the pulse beneath his mouth begin to slow. It quickly roused him from his feeding and with blood still dripping from his chin; he licked at the wound till it healed over.

Harry was dazed, eyes dilated and darkened. His mind couldn't process a single thing. As darkness began to gnaw at his vision, his last sight was of Draco, lips full and bright red, silver eyes shining in the low light, fangs descended with his blood falling from them and onto the carpet.

…oh…

* * *

**A/N: So how was it? I've never really written slashy stuff, so I should get better in the future! Oh, and the answer to my last chapters question, ...well one person got it right, but I won't say who, coz that'd ruin my plot now wouldn't it? You can still guess though, if enough people get it right I'll tell you. And please review! I'll update faster!**


	9. Spirits

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

**A/N: This is my largest chapter ever! Note that I will probably never write a chappy this long again, but that I have a set number of things that must happen in a chapter, regardless of how long that takes to write. And a ton of stuff had to happen here. Hee. Once again, I have only edited this once, so I'm sorry for any mistakes. This is a big turning point in the plot, so feedback and reviews are begged for! I'm also sorry how long this chapter took, but it IS long, and I am still gettting used to my new workload at school. Oh, and in response to reviews,**

**Yana5:** OMG,i was sooo creeped out when I read you review, i was literally like, HOW DO YOU KNOW! I was just a little bit scared actually. As you've probably guessed, you were right. Or the right-est. Even i'm not completly sure.

And to **ASOTA, **thankyou very much for your lovely long reviews!

* * *

**Spirits**

Friday morning dawned surprisingly balmy. The wind from the previous days had settled to light breezes and the weather had spun to a gentle warmth. The coolness of the night was quickly banished as the sunlight made its first appearances along the horizon and the morning coos of the wood pigeons began in earnest.

The house, as always, was quiet and unnaturally still. Even in the one room that held any people at all there was a hush of silence, with only half finished thoughts lingering, accompanied with the soft sounds of someone breathing.

Draco was once again ensnared by the motion, the slow rise and fall. He stared down at the young man lying on his lap, curled up on the bed, eyes unblinking and not moving a single inch one way or another. He had been this way for several hours now. Just gazing, not thinking of anything at all, or at least, nothing of any real importance.

He let his tongue languidly slide over his teeth; he could still taste his delightful minuo's blood on his lips. It was something to be savoured after all. Perhaps part of the vampire's blank state of mind had something to do with the disturbing fact that he could have very easily killed Harry last night. Oh, not upsetting that he _could_, he had done so many times before. No, what was unsettling him was that he held the desire to do the complete opposite when it came to Harry. Not only did Draco not want him dead in any way, but also the green-eyed boy had actually managed to stir some sort of…affection out of him.

And wasn't that a disconcerting thought?

For Draco, it had long gone past the point of curios _interest._ Somewhere in the past what, two days, he had formed some sort of attachment to him. And that hadn't happened in a very long time indeed. In fact, now that he thought about it, the last person he had come to care for in anyway had been S-

Draco was broken from his internal musings by quite possibly _the _cutest noise he had ever heard. It had been a sort of breathy cross between a mew and a sigh, which was oddly reminiscent of a napping kitten.

Looking down, Draco discovered the source as Harry shifted slightly in his sleep, having the unforeseen side effect of him sliding down from Draco's chest to his thigh. Considering he didn't wake, it was quite the feat.

Draco, however, wasn't quite as appreciative; Harry's new position had his head dangerously near his hip…. and a little to the left. Normally, of course, the blonde would have been rather happy with this arrangement, but he was also all too aware what Harry would do if he woke in such a pose. While seeing him topple off the bed again would be amusing, Draco also did not harbour any desire to add more accusations on top of what would be sure to follow after the previous night.

Harry let out another minute sound, this time in the form of a groan, his head turning a little.

Twitching only very slightly, Draco allowed his pale hand to come to a rest on his pretty little charmant's head, waiting patiently for him to return to wakefulness.

* * *

His mind was in a peaceful fog at the moment, and Harry was most comfortable remaining that way, his entire body felt boneless and heavy; in a very pleasant way too. All thoughts were wonderfully blank and he readily settled down to return to sleeping. However, the more Harry tried to grasp back oblivion, the harder it was to hold onto, it was slipping away from him like water in cupped hands. Giving a whimper of disappointment, he turned and allowed his mind to get back in gear, though he resolutely held his eyes firmly shut; he wouldn't let the rising sun scour away his remaining doziness. The ignorance was far too blissful in Harry's opinion.

Unfortunately, it was not to be. His brain seemed to have deemed this as the time he would wake up. Harry growled slightly in consternation; damn traitorous psyche, wasn't it supposed to be on his side?

Harry's pondering on the loyalties of his errant mind however, were cut short as the details of the night before began to slink to the forefront of his conscious. Images flashed, not being able to sleep, the gardens, the rooms, the plush carpet and patio slabs, hushed words. Then the last memories surged to the forefront, fiery kisses, sharp pain and pleasure. Pearly fangs and deep red blood staining the rug.

Draco.

…

"Oh."

* * *

"Oh."

Draco snapped from his gazing as he heard the soft, breathless exclamation of surprise. Looking down, he saw that Harry had finally awoken. From the tumultuous appearance of those verdant eyes, Draco knew he was thinking of last night. He glanced out the window; it was well into the afternoon. Had they really been lying there for that long?

His wandering attention was quickly reclaimed.

Harry rolled off of the vampire and stretched like a cat on the soft bed sheets. While doing so he cast a hidden glance at the blonde man sitting propped against the headboard. He looked so…calm, even now, as if he hadn't done anything just the night before. Harry's palm subconsciously strayed to his neck, half expecting not to find anything at all, and being unpleasantly surprised to find a _very_ sensitive spot that Draco had paid particular attention too; with his uncalled for nipping!

Draco heard the soft hiss and saw the ferocious glare sent his way. It made him chuckle slightly. Which only served to earn him another growl of distaste. He waited patiently for Harry to start speaking, he couldn't really say anything until he knew what the smaller mans thoughts were after all.

"_**What**_ did you do last night?" came a rather venomous question from the bottom half of the bed. Draco merely raised an eyebrow.

Harry huffed, annoyed at the infuriating, not to mention unsatisfying response. For fuck's sake! The vampire could have bloody _killed_ him! And he still didn't get any proper answers; he could feel all the suppressed emotions from the previous days start to well up in his chest.

Most of Harry's anger at the moment was stemming from his confusion. Never had _anyone _been that…intimate with him (which was just another part of his so far rather depressing life) and it had made him feel-…warm, so warm. The fact that the blonde had _drunk his blood_, however, was completely wrong, only superseded by the most frightening aspect of it all, that he had-…liked it. _So much._ It felt like admitting to a dreadful sin and it all just made him more confused and just set off all the other reactions he had been ignoring.

The fearful dreams, the wearing of his nerves by staying in this house all by himself, that chamber underneath the drawing room, being told about everyone disappearing, the storms in the tower, the remains of Mark Evans, meeting with a _**real**_ vampire, _the fucking numbness!!!_

At this point Harry couldn't stop it, he couldn't breathe, it was too much, too much on his body and his mind, too much on everything.

"I…I can't- I can't, do…this. Too much-…it's…all-too much. I…can't," he wheezed as his breath began to hitch distressingly.

Draco watched in alarm as his little charmant managed to work himself into a full blown panic attack, curling his knees up and choking slightly as he began to hyperventilate.

The vampire swiftly moved to cradle the distraught brunette from behind. Draco wasn't actually all that surprised that Harry had finally broken down, he had taken everything a little _too _well. It seemed as if everything had at last come back to him.

Draco rubbed his back and whispered words of comfort, much like he had done only the day before when he had woken, crying out from his nightmare. He felt a wetness seep into his shirt and looking up, saw crystal tears cascading down Harry's cheeks and dampening the Egyptian cotton bedspread where they fell.

Draco sighed and pulled the younger boy to his chest. If Harry were anyone else at this point, Draco was well aware that he probably would have just left them on the floor and moved on. Of course, any of the proper acquaintances he had wouldn't do this, and the only others that saw him were normally for drinking purposes, so it was really a moot point. Still, it remained that Draco was not the type to do this for just _anyone_, but then again, Harry was _his._ And Draco Malfoy took care of the little he ever cared to claim as his own.

Under Draco's ministrations, Harry slowly started to calm, his great lungfuls of air receding to a pathetic hiccupping, and the flow of tears ceasing. His head though, remained where it was, leaning against the older man's chest, soothed by the silence. The rhythmic pulse of the blonde's heart lulling him better than any lullaby ever could.

Should Draco have a heartbeat at all?

Harry was still a bit dazed, so with usual tact, he blurted out the question with a bluntness normally reserved for Ronald Weasley.

"Draco, why do you have a heartbeat?"

Draco gave him a haughty look, "why shouldn't I have one?"

Harry frowned slightly at that. Vampires didn't have any blood; surely that is why they needed to drink it? And so why would their hearts be needed to beat, he knew for a fact that Draco didn't breathe.

"Because…you're a vampire?" asked Harry stated inquisitively.

Draco gave a low chuckle, which due to Harry's position let him feel the vibrations spread through his chest. It was a disturbingly nice feeling.

"You obviously don't know a thing about vampires charmant. I shall have to endeavour to teach you properly at some point." Draco sighed, "for now accept that when a vampire is Turned, it is as if they are…reborn I suppose. The heart stops, but then starts again. And we most certainly have our own blood," he added seemingly as an afterthought.

"Are you reading my mind again?"

Draco gave an elegant snort, "I thought I told you that I did not need to."

They once again lapsed into silence, both very content with their current arrangement. Harry allowed his head to loll onto the vampires shoulder, letting his eyes partly slide closed, starting to fall asleep again. His little breakdown earlier (he cringed internally at the thought of it) had taken quite a lot of energy out of him, and he was still a little drowsy from the blood loss last night. Harry let this fact slide though; he had enjoyed last night's…activities far too much.

Just as Harry was about to drift off back to sleep, his eyes snapped wide as he suddenly remembered.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed, shooting up from his comfortable position on the bed and crawling over to the edge so he could stand.

"What?" came Draco's rather amused response.

"What day is it?" Harry asked hurriedly, disregarding the vampire's query.

The blonde had a slightly bemused look in his eyes, but answered nevertheless, "It is Friday, the 12th of October. Why?"

"_Fuck!_"

As Draco appeared no more knowing at his current fast pacing and spewing of profanities about the date, Harry decided to enlighten him.

"It's Friday, and I was supposed to call Hermione, just to make sure I'm: 'ok', how things are going and all that shit. Where the hell is my phone!" he finished with a growl of aggravation.

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly at the mention of the woman's name. "Who is _Hermione_ Harry?"

Harry looked up from fumbling through his pockets in search of his blasted mobile, and blinked owlishly at the enquiry.

"Oh, she's just one of my best friends, who seems to take pleasure in pretending that she's my mother at times," admitted Harry distractedly.

Draco leaned back against the silken headboard, not entirely assured by the smaller man's somewhat vague answer, but removed from further thought by Harry finally retrieving his phone from a pocket Draco had been sure he did not have a moment ago.

Harry's victory was pitifully short lived, however, as when he attempted to call, it had the audacity to screech that 'the number you have dialled is unavailable'. The calm mechanical voice merely served to aggravate his temper further.

"Why won't you work! You stupid, stupid thing!"

All thoughts of meddling mother-friends were driven from Draco's mind as he witnessed the extremely hilarious scene in front of him. His little minuo was not only exceedingly cute while angry, but that delicious flush across his cheeks and that fire in his eyes had returned, causing the vampire to flick his tongue over his teeth delightedly at the sight.

Draco sighed in false exasperation, enjoying the situation immensely and finding it difficult to summon the necessary control not to laugh, "Where are you trying to call to charmant?"

Harry finally redirected his attention to the blonde as he whirled around, his ire rising by the moment.

"Italy, why?" he snapped out.

Not at all perturbed by the tetchy young man glaring at him, Draco merely replied with a light condescending, " Well, have you thought that _that_ may be the problem?"

Harry just looked dumbly at the device in his hand for a moment before exploding with great irritable wrath.

"_Stupid, fucking, useless,_ _PAY-AS-YOU-GO!"_

And with that, the veritably murderous brunette threw his mobile as hard as he possibly could away from himself in pure raging disgust.

Straight out the window.

Draco watched with shining eyes as Harry blinked, before realising just what he had done; he ran to the sill, only in time to see one of the bushes shudder slightly. Harry collapsed against the glass in despair and stared morosely out towards the shrubbery; his previous anger having disappeared along with his phone out the window.

Harry was disturbed form his mourning as he heard the most pleasant sound. It was light and affectionate, bathing him in warmth as if he had just been dipped into a wonderfully hot bath. He turned around to see the most astounding sight, of Draco having fallen off the bed in complete and utter hysterics.

Harry failed to see what was _quite_ so funny about the situation.

"_What are you laughing at?"_

Draco quickly recovered enough control to not only stand but also to smirk viciously at him as well. Bastard.

"Sorry lovely, but you are so entirely _**endearing**_ when you're mad," said Draco with humour still echoing in his voice.

Harry gave a mournful sigh and let his shoulders drop; he was far too tired for anymore of this. And his problem still remained. Luckily for him, Draco just seemed to know absolutely everything that afternoon.

"If you still have to call that Hermione girl," said the vampire, while leaning leisurely against one of the bedposts, "then I'm sure you can use one of the payphones in town. If you have any money that is."

Harry groaned painfully at his. It took at least half an hour to walk into town, let alone find anything. It was far too much effort. Then again, if he didn't, then his bushy-haired friend would be all the worse when he _did _eventually manage to speak with her.

Harry sighed once more for good measure and glanced out of the luckily open window. He wasn't quite sure what part of the afternoon it was, probably still early as there was plenty of blue sky, but he should probably just get this bloody phone call over and done with. He was startled out of his thoughts by Draco's voice.

"Should we go then?"

Harry looked up at the innocent looking vampire, some of his lost fury rising again.

"_We?_ I am not a child! You do not need to escort me whenever I leave the house!" Harry yelled indignantly.

"How convenient," said Draco lightly, " for I am not escorting you, I am _stalking _you."

And with a beatific smile, Draco sashayed gracefully out the door.

Harry's stab of irritation was easily swept away as he felt his lips twitch.

* * *

Draco watched dispassionately as Harry fiddled with his little stack of coins once again.

"Weren't you born in England charmant?" drawled Draco in a rather ire-inducing manner.

"Yes," Harry spat out through gritted teeth, "but I haven't been back for well over four years. I would be perfectly fine if I had yen, or roubles, or anything else."

The vampire merely raised a disbelieving eyebrow. And watched once more, as there was the clink of metal as Harry managed to drop several of them and had to bend over to catch them. When he finally retrieved them all, he made sure to grip them tightly. And prayed that the blonde would refrain from saying anything else.

"Are you sure you're not just clumsy?" asked Draco indulgently after a short pause.

"No," said Harry tightly as he slammed the coins into the machine with slightly more force than strictly required, " but don't you have anything _else_ to do?"

Harry turned to face the vampire when he remained silent and was rewarded with a pensive look spread across his features. Eventually he spoke,

"Yes, in fact, I do," he glanced at Harry, as if debating something in his mind.

"I'll see you later. Tonight." and with that Draco stepped into the shadow cast by the phone box and just…disappeared.

Harry blinked in shock at the sudden departure. He couldn't help but think, in a very small voice, '_what happened to the stalking?'_

_

* * *

_

The wind that had been missing for most of the day rose up again, lifting tresses of midnight hair and sending a twinge of pain jolting across the scar on his forehead. Rubbing it slightly, and vaguely pondering on the strange chill that seemed to have suddenly appeared, Harry returned his attention to the ringing phone.

He picked up just in time to hear a squeal of "Harry! Are you ok? I was so _worried_. We were _all _so worried, why didn't you call yesterday? Or the day before? What happened has something gone wrong? Oh I just _knew_ that something terrible must be going on, I mean what Dumbledore said-oh I just can't _believe_ that I let you stay there! You could have died or worse!"

"…I was supposed to have called yesterday?" asked Harry blankly.

"…Sometimes Harry, you're worse than Ron."

"Hey! I am not that bad, and anyway I can't stay long, I'm using a payphone."

"Why are you using a payphone, where's your mobile?" asked Hermione curiously.

There was a pause.

"I seem to have…misplaced it."

"Harry!" wailed Hermione, " How can you _lose_ a phone?!" There was a rush of static as the girl gave a despondent sigh down the line. Harry decided overall not to be offended; the real circumstances were a lot worse in his opinion, though he did resent the 'Ron' comment, just a little.

"Never mind, what's done is done. Have you at least made any progress yet?"

For a moment Harry really didn't know what on earth she was talking about.

"Huh? Oh! The house, right," he said, still slightly off-kilter, "Um, well…I've been a bit…distracted (Harry winced at the implications) and, er, I'm not _quite_ as-as _far_…as I'd _like_ to be…but by the time you arrive next week it'll all be sorted out!" as he said this he also realised that those same words could be practically applied to anything.

Including his and Draco's rather inexplicable relationship.

Harry went quite the interesting shade of cherry red at the thought and stifled a small shriek of mortification at his own thoughts treachery.

It was unfortunate that Hermione still managed to hear it.

"Harry? Are you alright!"

"Fine, just…fine," said Harry in a slightly strained voice.

"Well, if your sure, and you have nothing else to tell me…" she trailed off uncertainly, obviously truly worried about him.

"Really, I'm fine."

The call went dead as the line was cut off.

Harry cursed and checked his pockets for change, only to find a few pennies that were useless. He sighed to himself and left the phone box, glancing at the sky. The sky was looking a little cloudy at the moment.

With the wind whipping against him, and hurling dried leaves about him, Harry turned and began the trek back to the house. His conversation with Hermione had been uneventful and brief; leading his mind to ponder what 'things' Draco might have had to attend to.

* * *

Grey eyes stared unfocused out the window, and Draco swirled the wineglass between his fingers. Taking a small sip of the dark red liquid within, he allowed himself to drift through his thoughts. His forever-evolving relationship with his precious little minuo was, surprisingly, not the focus of his mind at the moment. He had left the smaller man in order to check over a few things. And they had given him a lot to think about.

Draco gave a small irritated sigh; he had been at rest for a long time, or rather, a lot had _happened_ in that time. He tipped back some more of the wineglass and swallowed quickly. After having the taste of his charmant in his mouth, the blood he usually took was almost unpalatable in comparison.

The vampire curled his brow into a scowl as he continued to stare into the distance. The only good thing was that he had been able to travel to his destinations with speed, something advantageous about being a dark creature of the night, he supposed. He had met with several of his…acquaintances. There was nothing _wrong _per say…but…it was all the little things, the subtle undertones. Something was moving, whispering a sense of fear, which gave him an undeniable sense of pending.

The worst being it stirred long rested memories that he had hoped, perhaps foolishly, would stay in the past. Draco sighed once more, hopefully the rumours were only that; rumours.

On the upside, his various bank accounts and investments were flourishing quite well. Even after over three hundred years, he still retained the Malfoy financial skills; Draco harboured no desire to become a pauper, dead or no. Perhaps he should take up Harry's suggestion after all, he mused, the manor really would benefit from some renovation. Then again, it had never felt _right _to do so; the truth being that he just couldn't face the past that still lingered in the very walls of the place.

Draco let a sardonic smirk grace his face. He was overdue his ominous brood sessions.

* * *

It was overdue, Harry decided, for a change in attire. Oh, he hadn'tbeen wearing the same thing for 5 days now, but the air had been a bit more humid than he remembered and the slight incline to the manor steeper. Simply put, he smelled disgusting. And some new clothes would be greatly appreciated. A shower would be wonderful, but that would mean sneaking into Draco's rooms, and Harry was far too shy to do such a thing. At least, not quite yet.

As he found a cream shirt that he deigned wearable, Harry let his thoughts trail to a certain blonde vampire. Again. It was all very confusing when it came to him. Harry knew that against all logic, he felt comfortable; almost safe with the man, and that unfortunately he had no true objection to all the …kissing. Hell, even the whole blood thing was easily skimmed over; it had felt so good anyway.

His friends would be horrified.

Harry sighed as he finished changing and set off down the spiral stairs, intending on finding the object of his thoughts.

* * *

His search led him to the balcony room, the one that housed the piano. Draco could be seen leaning by the railings, another wineglass in hand. Harry shivered, vividly recalling the first time he saw that glass in his mind and went to join him.

Draco watched with hooded eyes as his little charmant appeared next to him, resolutely staring out over the grounds. He couldn't stifle the smirk that made its way across his face; Harry had sought him out.

"Enjoying the view?" he murmured lowly. He knew Harry had heard him from the slight shudder than ran its course down the smaller man's back.

Harry tried his hardest to resist but inevitably failed and, giving in, glanced at the man beside him from the corner of his eye. The moon was out that night, shining silver, and yet keeping the night dark at the same time. At the present moment it was illuminating the vampires beautiful features in such a magnificent way, that Harry felt his breath hitch traitorously. Harry deftly turned his head.

Staring at the edges of the wilted rose garden, he heard a mournful sigh, but kept his sight fixed to where it was.

"Enough of these games charmant, at least for tonight. I don't believe we have the time required for it."

That turned Harry's head, and he frowned slightly, not understanding.

"Time?"

Draco sighed once again. He wasn't entirely sure what he meant either; only that it was most definitely true. Which was a disquieting thought for the both of them.

Draco turned to face the young, dark haired man, and Harry was struck with the realisation that Draco looked…tired. There were no lines on his face or any slump in his posture to suggest so, but Harry knew he felt weary. It was the eyes, he decided, the stormy grey were far too weighted, and not with age.

Draco had once thought that his minuo was a pretty little thing. He now ascertained that Harry was beautiful instead. Perhaps not physically; he had unsightly glasses and was far too thin to be considered completely healthy, but he was beautiful none the less, especially with those lovely green eyes of his.

Before either of them knew it, lips were meeting under the moonlight. It did not follow like the ones previous however. It was soft and gentle with an odd sort of longing lying beneath it. When they parted, Harry knew that something had just irrevocably changed between them, but what, he could not possibly fathom.

Both silently returned to staring out at the moonlit lawns.

* * *

There was something nagging on the edge of his mind, but for the life of him, he could not figure out what. It was like some irritating itch that just wouldn't go away, and it caused his nerves to tense, the urge to do something, anything overwhelming.

"I need to go check over some things," he said softly, making Harry start at the suddenness.

Harry bit his lip, resisting the urge to satisfy his burning curiosity. He probably _really _didn't want to know anyway, as with those double doors. Not trusting himself to speak, encase he inadvertently blurted out some inane question, Harry just nodded.

Draco, however, appeared satisfied and once again just stepped back into the shadows of the doorway and disappeared from sight.

Harry gave a strangled noise of irritation; he would _have _to ask the vampire just how he did that.

He turned back to the gardens again, wondering what on earth he was going to do now. He wasn't tired in any way and his only real source of distraction had just vanished through a shade. He sighed and rested his head on his palm, leaning over the railings, gaining a strange satisfaction from feeling the metal dig in just under his ribs. His eyes trailed to a path that twisted past the back of the house; it was similar to the patio he saw in the private gardens the night before.

Feeling a curios desire to see where the path led, Harry walked on silent feet to the front doors, and made his way out onto the grounds. The wind was picking up again and Harry felt a stab of pain dash through the scar on his forehead. He stumbled slightly at the unexpected hurt, but it was gone as swiftly as it had come, and Harry easily shook it off and continued down the dusty path he had found.

* * *

Harry halted when he came to the sinister spiked gate. It was nestled in the shadows, causing the dark wrought metal to appear suddenly, like a shadow. Indeed, had it not been for the smatterings of moonlight on the ground, he was sure he would have walked right into it. Luckily the spikes were on the other side, facing in towards the garden. It also looked very heavy. The grooves from where it had been moved were deeper than Harry had thought from the window above.

One side of the gate, however, was left slightly ajar. It was a small space, but it was enough for Harry to nimbly slide through.

As he was in, he cast another surveying glance around the garden. It was stunning to the highest degree. Harry almost couldn't believe that Draco could nurture a garden like this and still not understand the beauty of growing things. He shook his head, even if Draco merely kept them this way for his mother, he was glad he did.

He leisurely made his way down the raised patio, gazing out across the grass to the large oak tree to the side. He could hear the light tinkle of running water, and he curiously made his way round the bend and paused.

There were several pools, with large tumbling rocks artistically arranged into a waterfall. The most inspiring sight was that the water seemed perfectly clear, and glistened in the dark. He just stood there for several minutes, mesmerised by the gentle flow of water, lulled by the graceful movements.

When he eventually snapped himself from his self-induced daze, he followed on down the path, and over it when it bridged the shimmering stream below him.

His steps became hesitant once he crossed though. The turns had led him out of sight from the house, and the air began to become colder, feeling heavy as it pressed against him. Nevertheless he pushed on, round another large tree with thick, crumbling bark. He idly noticed that he had moved onto grass, instead of more stone, and only then realised that he was barefoot. He blushed slightly at the fact he hadn't been aware enough to notice. It wasn't something one usually forgot after all.

He made a final turn and found him self enclosed in a small little grove. The bushes were substantially lush and on one side there were intricate climbing vines. There was not anything worthy of notice, and Harry frowned slightly, wondering why he would come here of all places.

He was just about to turn around to leave when he caught sight of something outside of his peripheral vision.

It was a mask.

And lying quite innocently on the moss, propped against a tree. For some reason, the mere sight of it made his skin tingle unpleasantly, but his insatiable curiosity won out once more and he peered closer.

It was white, and held the slightly powdery texture of porcelain. It was angular, with most of the features smoothed over, and was completed with slanted rectangular eyeholes.

The wind whistled through some of the higher branches above, and the chill of the night deepened further. His anxiety increasing, Harry quickly turned to leave once again, wishing as much distance between that mask and himself as possible. What he saw when he gave it one last glimpse stopped him dead.

The white mask was rising from the ground, as shadows slid from the hollows to begin to craft a figure. Harry watched with growing horror as the form rose taller than himself and the surrounding shades continued to merge together.

He was petrified to the spot. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him. His heart thudded terrified in his chest and lungs refused to inhale. He was only able to muster the strength to look up to see the white mask in the place of the creatures face. The figure seemed to be made up of whirling pieces of darkness and as Harry saw the eyes glow red, his fear broke him from his trance.

He stepped back, stumbled and then fled back the way he had come, feet pounding on the floor, his bare feet creating a slapping noise on the stone.

Across the bridge, he gave into the temptation to look behind and saw that the figure was giving pursuit. Harry let out a stuttering cry of disbelief and vainly tried to run faster.

Slap-slap-slap-slap-

He couldn't breath; his lungs were burning white hot as he tried to get more oxygen through him. His mind and thoughts were in frenzied disarray, the adrenalin disorientating his already hazy mind, causing the world to tilt.

Slap-slap-slap-slap-

Suddenly, he could hear a hissing noise from behind him, he didn't need to see to know what it was, he could already imagine it spewing from the spirit's mouth, spitting its way through the mask. He could feel the severe malicious pressure closing in on him, his heart beating furiously-

Slap-slap-slap-slap-

Where was Draco? Shouldn't he know what was happening? Shouldn't he be here? Why wasn't he here!

Harry skidded round the corner, and continued running, right along the raised patio, the gate up ahead.

He would never make it though, the shadow behind him had nearly caught up, he could feel it closing in on him, the gate was just up ahead, only a few metres, the creature stretched forth a hand to grab him-

And three noises rang through the air.

* * *

Draco had known there was something wrong, possibly all evening. After leaving Harry, he had retreated to his study, trying to work out what had put him so on edge. It was a familiar presence, but his perfect memory mind was being stubbornly uncooperative. It was rather frustrating to say the least.

When he had finally dredged up the memory, the vampire could have sworn his heart stopped beating for the second time in his life. He sat there, in his chair, still, for several moments before a desperate cry sounded through the night.

_Harry._

He had quickly grabbed what he needed from the top of his desk and melded into the shadows, instantly appearing outside.

Eyes bleeding dangerous silver, Draco had intercepted the spirit, preying on

A double thud echoed through the garden, masking the third. Draco had impaled the creature through the neck to a tree, a silver sword imbedded several inches in the bark.

Draco watched with satisfaction as the figure went limp, the red burn of its eyes dimming to nothingness. Draco turned; wanting to make sure that his little charmant was all right and that any injuries were merely superficial. What he saw made his eyes widen.

* * *

Harry was cold. That was the only thing registering in his mind. Other than that, it was utterly blank. He supposed he was a little numb as well, but he had no idea why. 

It took him a moment to realise where he was. The shadow, had it got him? No, he could see it pinned to that tree over there. Draco had appeared after all.

So why was he cold? He looked down, feeling as if everything was taking an age to happen, like everything was in slow motion, or he was moving through treacle.

Red. He saw red, seeping through his shirt, and there was something on his chest. He slowly brought his hand up to feel the wetness, and his palm came away red. Now starting to shake, Harry recognised it; it was blood. He was bleeding? Why?

It took him several more seconds to realise what the rough, dark object nestling just under his ribs was.

Harry had impaled him self on the gate.

The spike had rammed straight into him, and he had been moving too fast at the time to stop.

He glanced at his hand again, feeling the wetness get colder.

His voice was small and cracked as he breathed out,

"Oh."

With awareness, the numbness rapidly gave way to pain.

There was a thick, wet, gouging sound as he came away from the barb, his legs crumpling beneath him, making him hit the stone slabs with a smack. He couldn't move, not even to close his eyes.

Draco watched, as Harry collapsed, dark red blood staining the ground from the gaping wound in his chest. This…this couldn't be happening! How…

Harry wasn't supposed to die…

Draco felt his world come to a screeching halt as it began to collapse in on him. Harry…his little charmant…had made him feel…happy. Something that he had long given up on…_this __**couldn't**__ happen_.

With that thought came decision. Perhaps Harry would hate him for it, but Draco was a selfish person, no matter how hard he might try, he couldn't let his minuo go, and especially not to _this, _of all things.

Draco rushed over to the bleeding man, to kneel down beside him and delicately held Harry's head in his lap. The vampire was pained to see that the beautiful green eyes had dulled, and that his pulse was far too faint for a mortal to ever recover from.

Draco let his fangs descend and lengthen before quickly biting down straight onto a vein in the dying man's neck. It didn't take the blonde long, considering most of his lovely minuo's blood lay pooled on the floor around them; Draco winced at the thought.

Praying that it wasn't too late, the vampire viciously bit into his wrist and held it against Harry's mouth, letting his own blood trickle through parted lips.

Despite his attempts, Draco was despondently aware of how likely it was that Harry would ever wake again.

* * *

**A/N: Oh no, Harry's dead! Shame that. Don't worry, the story ain't ending here. Now, question time! I would really like to know your thoughts on this one, coz this chapter changes a lot of things, and in coming chapters everything is gonna get much more complicated, so I really want to know what you think. Now, a nice question, how do people feel about SBxRL? Please review!!!**

* * *


	10. Wakings

**Disclaimer:** I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! Nearly a month! I am really sorry. It's been a bit hectic with schoolwork and then I've been in a bit of an anime faze too. And this chapter isn't even longer than usual either. BUT, there is a wonderful thing called half term! Two weeks, where I should hopefully get a lot more writing done, so yay! Oh, and thanks so much for reviews last chapter, 16! Most ever, aiming for 20 now, so please review. **

**Warnings:** See first chapter, SLASH.

* * *

**Wakings**

Tick…

Tick…

Tick…

Tick…

A simple clock that hung on the wall continued its steady pace through time, the sound echoing in the stillness far longer than it usually should. Or, at least, that's what it felt like to Draco. The sturdy rhythm it chimed out was slowly driving him to madness. It was ricocheting around his head, making him uncharacteristically twitchy. Not to mention agitated.

A bell tolled, singing out the midnight hour. Another night gone, Draco thought bitterly to himself. It was now in the early hours of Monday morning, Harry had died late on Friday night.

The blonde man sighed, letting a rush of air whistle through his teeth, and slid his gaze to the prone figure lying on his bed.

Tick…

Tick…

Tick…

Two days…he couldn't even check if he was Turning properly, if he was at all. There was no warning, which he was aware of at least. Draco wasn't even entirely sure how long Harry was supposed to be comatose for; he had had no sense of time passing when he himself had Turned. The wait was effectively causing premature insanity to set in with a vengeance.

Draco felt the long abandoned habit from childhood rise up in him, but managed to restrain himself from gnawing on his fingers. His mother had told him, once, a long time ago; that it was a _common_ ailing, and that his nails would suffer for it. He settled for beating a hole into the table with his finger instead, tapping far more incessantly than that _bloody clock_.

Tick…

Tick…

Tick…

It was worse than listening to water dripping, he was certain of it.

Draco had never Turned anyone before and, from the other vampires he had briefly met in his time, he understood it to be a very individual and _delicate_ process. Thus, he had in his possession only the experience from his own, which had not been idyll in any sense of the word. Not that dying a painful death, only to be resurrected as a dark creature of the night could ever be 'idyllic', but still.

The vampire forcefully removed his gaze from the form on the bed. For all intents and purposes it was nothing more than a corpse; there was no heartbeat there, no intake of breath. Two days. Surely, Harry should have Awoken by now?

Draco sighed sombrely once again and focused on blocking out the unremitting 'tick' coming from the opposite wall. He truly could do no more than wait.

* * *

It was dark. Very, very dark. No to mention cold. Harry wasn't entirely sure, but he felt as if he had been freezing his entire life, and had only just realised it. His mind felt as if it were disconnected from the rest of him, and his limbs held a lack of sensation that should have been frightening; the overwhelming shadows that surrounded him took away any of his fear.

He did not know how long he laid there, alone in the dark, thoughts spinning around his head with entirely no order at all. That was, until the first faint feelings of a burn began. It was easily detectable through the numbness and as soon as he was able to focus attention to it, it rapidly grew in intensity, becoming a raging fire sweeping remorselessly through his body.

It raced from the depth of his bones outwards, radiating up to his spine, where it then sparked veraciously and shot up immediately to his head, scouring his nervous system mercilessly. The pain was almost utterly intolerable, the fact that he couldn't seem to move, to even try to be able to search out some sort of relief making the experience all the more excruciating.

It did, however, have the side affect of dragging his mind back together, at an alarming pace too. It was almost as if everything had suddenly jump-started, as he lay there, bathed in burning flame. Images sped past his mind's eyes, far too fast to be processed, while his limbs jerked as nerves rewired. Memories continued to flash through his mind until he heard a sound. The _last_, and simultaneously _first_ noise of his life; the moment of his death. It was a thick, wet, slicing resonance, and of metal rending through flesh.

Harry's eyes snapped open.

* * *

Draco, as tense as he was, was immediately aware when Harry finally showed some sign of movement, and as lashes flew open, he swiftly leapt from his chair and made his way to the bed.

Harry's eyes were large and staring, forced open unnaturally wide. As soon as Draco sat on the edge of the bed, his unseeing gaze fell straight to the vampire. Draco anxiously observed that Harry had begun to shake, at first only a slight tremor, isolated, that rapidly grew to cover his entire frame.

It was at this point, Harry seemed to realise that he was not breathing. As he tried to draw breath, all he did was start to splutter. His body simply refused to inhale, his throat seizing, sending his distraught mind into a panicked frenzy. As he attempted to breathe with greater force, his body began to jerk and shudder limply, and with great ferocity, causing Harry to choke on his own failed breaths.

As Harry started to spasm and his shaking turned into a full-fledged fit, Draco desperately pulled Harry up into a sitting position, taking care to support his head with his hands, lest Harry damage himself with his shuddering. With his new position, the smaller man quickly started to toss, twisting in on himself reflexively.

A sudden jerk, and a roll to the right had Draco relinquishing his hold momentarily so Harry could vomit harshly into a well-placed bucket Draco had left there the day before. Shaking pitifully, Harry managed to turn back onto the bed cover, still vainly trying to breathe. Fraught with trepidation and unease, the blonde quickly forced Harry to face him, determined to get him to focus.

"Harry…_Harry!_" he growled lowly, "Look at me…**I said look at me**!"

Harry's large green stare precariously fixed on the vampire's, still quivering in a very disquieting fashion.

"**Calm down**! Just look at me…it's alright…I promise…just listen to me and try to stop thinking, …relax…" Draco hushed in a much softer tone of voice.

After an excruciatingly long minute or two, Harry began to calm, releasing the tension that wrapped around his chest and his tremors gently easing off until he was lying limply in Draco's embrace.

Satisfied that the danger was passed, Draco smoothly propped Harry on some cushions next to the headboard and pulled back to a respectful distance, his silver eyes fading to grey. As his little charmant did nothing more than remain gazing at him wide eyed, the vampire gave a weary sigh. This entire affair was wearing on him terribly; it would be good when Harry was fully Turned, but until then…it would require patience and restraint. It was unfortunate that Draco had not practised in either discipline in a _very_ long time.

Harry was confused. Or, at least as confused as his blank mind was capable of being at the moment. He felt so…weak, and tired, and his body felt far too heavy. And the back of his mouth was burning from when his stomach turned, leaving a vile taste lingering in his mouth, and adding to his nausea. Giving in, he groaned and twisted his head to retch into the bucket once again, only resurfacing when satisfied there was absolutely nothing left in his stomach.

Slightly more aware of his surroundings, Harry attempted to piece together how he came to be in this situation, lying on Draco's bed and…

…not dead.

Panicking slightly as his previous memories caught up to him, he hastily checked his chest for any sign of injury. There was none, nothing at all. Unless, of course, one counts the thick encrusted layer of blood staining his shirt, hands and various other places.

A new sort of panic rose through him, an irrational fear bubbled through his subconscious and his gaze inadvertently swept to the figure leaning at the other end of the bed.

Harry could distinctly remember dying; the cold, the pain, the darkness, the scarlet staining the paving slabs beneath him. He had _felt_ his life dim.

So why was he still here?

Sparing another glance at the unmoving form that was Draco, Harry shakily looked at his hand. His fading tan had paled to a rather pallid white colour, not quite as fair as Draco's, but still dramatically lighter than he remembered.

Feeling his dread rise further still, Harry fisted his palm tightly, tension racking through him.

"Deh -dra co…" his voice came out as a rough whisper, air moving stiffly over his lips.

He saw Draco tense, as if hoping Harry wouldn't ask of him what he knew he would.

"How…how am I still alive…?"

The vampire lowered his head slightly, and let his eyes slip closed. He was not going to shy away from this; he was far better than that. Besides, this wasn't a bad thing, not at all.

Firming all resolve, Draco spoke, " I Turned you."

It was such a simple statement, delivered softly in a low murmur, and yet, it made the terror that had been rising within him settle deep within his bones. Harry felt cold, his skin prickling unpleasantly with it. He felt the burn of tears sting his eyes, and his hands began to shake again. He forcibly quelled it, as well as the urge to cry.

Instead he settled for a small, soft, "oh."

Draco, for his part, was trying to remain serious and keep any amusement off his face; he had noticed that his charmant had the tendency to utter that little 'oh', whenever he could come up with nothing to say. He really shouldn't have found it as amusing as he did.

Seeing the emotions swirling about in Harry's head, Draco settled himself to wait for the other inevitable question. In the meantime, the blonde decided to properly observe for the first time, what changes had occurred to his minuo.

The first thing to notice was the complexion; Harry's skin was now quite wan, though it would continue to pale further over the next few days. His features also seemed more defined, especially his eyes, though this was most likely due to the paler countenance and that his glasses were no longer present. He mused that Harry had most probably not noticed that he was not wearing them any longer.

The more subtle changes were harder to pick out. For instance, Draco knew that it wasn't only his charmant's sight that had improved, but other senses as well, perhaps not enough to notice at the moment, but all in time. Possibly the most difficult to detect was the breathing; as Harry had not completed Turning, he still required the oxygen intake, though much less than a mortal usually would, though this would cease within the next week or so too.

Draco sighed, he fervently hoped that he could ease Harry onto blood as smoothly as possible; he harboured no desire to become involved in any sort of _morality_. Draco could barely retain the shudder at the thought.

His absent musings were interrupted by a small, lost, little voice from the headboard,

"Why did you do it? Why did you do this to me?"

Ah yes, the other dreaded question.

Draco regarded Harry for a moment, pondering his answer, silently observing the huddled creature that Harry made; at some point he had grabbed the nearest cushion and was now holding it tightly against him.

With another weighted sigh, Draco finally deigned to answer,

"Because I couldn't let you die," he said quietly, at Harry's uncomprehending stare, he continued, "I have spent over three hundred years serving out eternity in solitude, until nothing could hold my interest for more than a passing moment, only waking long enough to feed, numb to the passage of time. Then…there was you."

Harry blinked and the vampire was suddenly crouching directly in front of him, eliciting a startled squeak from Harry and causing him to grip the pillow tighter. Nose to nose he carried on,

"Who has somehow managed to make me happier than I think I have ever been."

Harry started at that, " but, I mean…I haven't really done… anything…" he said confused. This whole situation was unbelievable, and it was making his head hurt. And Draco wasn't really helping matters being so close either; he could feel the wisps of air tickling against his skin.

Draco lifted a graceful hand and swept some dark locks behind an ear,

"And that is why you mean so much…"

Before he knew it, Harry felt cool lips brush against his own, sending a pleasurable shiver down his spine. He couldn't help but open his mouth and let Draco's tongue slide over his own sensually, causing him to groan in satisfaction. Arms twined around him and tightened passionately, the kiss turning possessive.

Harry felt the cold die away as warmth suffused him, shifting slightly as Draco moved so his knees were on either side of his waist. Harry let out a small sigh of contentment as they parted, both far too drained to progress any further.

It had done what it needed though; Harry's emotional turmoil had been soothed away. Almost as if it had never been in the first place. For at that moment, nothing else seemed to matter, apart from the blonde vampire that was lying beside him.

Calmed, he soon fell to sleep.

* * *

Upon waking, Harry remained perfectly still, not even moving to open his eyes. It was an instinctual urge, the one you get when you are utterly sure that movement would result in large amounts of stiff, aching pain. The fact that he felt pleasantly warm and sinfully comfortable might have helped as well.

It was therefore unfortunate that his mind refused to co-operate and instead of dozing peacefully, Harry went straight to awareness. In fact, he woke almost unnaturally …fast.

That was all it took for the events of the past few days to ram any hope of continued sleeping out of the proverbial window. Silently mourning the loss, Harry managed to summon enough energy to try turn over slightly so he could rise.

It was there that he met problems.

There was some sort of resistance preventing him from sitting up, and was limiting his movements. From the way his head was twisted on the bed sheets, Harry couldn't see what it was either. Joy.

He continued to struggle for some minutes more, before a particularly violent tug freed him from the confines of the covers and sent him careening onto the floor with a shocked yelp.

Ignoring the pain in his arm, Harry glanced back to the bed, searching for what had caused him his struggle. It did not take long to identify the source as being a certain blonde vampire, who was still sleeping quite contentedly.

Cursing under his breath and blushing slightly from the knowledge that he had must have been completely entangled with the man while he slept, Harry remained huddled on the carpet.

It was then that the achy pain came back, accompanied by an appropriate wince. Harry felt as if all his muscles had been pulled all in one go, and then chopped in half several times before being sewn back together. He felt slightly cold as well, the nagging kind, that prickles and lodges down the back when ill.

It was day, he noted idly, though Harry couldn't be sure which one, as he didn't know how long he had been unconscious.

He let his gaze wander the room, he had never seen it in the day, and the last time he was here he only gave Draco's room a passing glance.

It was as he caught sight of himself in a full-length mirror next to an antique chest of drawers that he was faced with both the truth, and the inevitable.

His reflection seemed paler, washed out as if it couldn't properly focus him. His skin itself had bleached to a much lighter colour, making his hair appear darker, and his eyes brighter, which widened when he finally noticed that he no longer wore his glasses, and that he hadn't for some time, yet could see perfectly well.

Alarmed, he made a quick check of his teeth with his tongue, but was immensely relieved to find that his canines were just as small and blunt as he remembered. He was calmed enough not to go into a full fledged panic attack at his reflection.

Harry swallowed, still gazing enraptured by the image lying innocently in the glass. His hair looked a little softer and the slight scars on his hands, remnants of nicks and scrapes had smoothed over, leaving white unmarred flesh behind. His reflection unsettled him; there was just something not right about the picture it presented. It took him a few moments of searching to realise what was wrong; in his shaken state of mind, he had completely forgotten to breathe. He stared at his chest, which lay unmoving under his blood-tarnished shirt.

It finally hit home. With a startled gasp of horror Harry came to the realisation that he hadn't been unconscious for the past two days…he had been _dead. _

Harry managed to restrain the sob, but couldn't stop the tear from falling down his all-too-pale cheek.

He had learnt from an early age that in life, you just had to take it as it comes, the good and the bad, and not to panic when something you didn't expect pops up right in front of you.

But right then, none of it mattered; it would never matter again.

Curling up, he wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his chin on his hands, staring uncomprehendingly at the mirror as the tears rolled down, glistening like crystal.

In his distress, he could only think of one thing.

"_What will happen to me now?"_

* * *

**A/N:Next chapter, we meet more people, including Sirius, Remus and...guess! Hopefully will be out soon! Please give feedback, if only to rant that I should not be so bad at updating!**


	11. Blood Stains

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Hi again! Hope you like this chapter, it moves things along a bit, primarily for next chapter! I'm sooo excited, not only do I have a plot (sort of), not only does Draco have backstory, but Harry does too! I was planning on more this chapter, but you should see Sirius, Remus and others coming in later. This story is far from over. Oh, and in response to some questions, I make the stuff about vampires up myself, considering there is so many different views out there, your better off making your own! **

**A BIG thankyou to all of my reviewers! You're so great!**

Warnings: progressively heavier lemons.

* * *

**Blood Stains**

In an Italian museum, between pale beach floors and white walls sat a young woman in her early twenties. She was seated on a stone, flat bench, opposite the revolving doors of the lobby, disguised behind the bustle of people scurrying to and fro. She had thick, bushy hair and was currently holding a compact mobile to her ear, a worried expression adorning her features.

"Why the hell won't he pick up…" she muttered, snapping the phone shut in frustration, and letting a growl slip though her teeth. Continuing to scowl at the device in her hand, she failed to notice when a tall red head came up behind her and was therefore elicited a startled jump when he put his hand on her shoulder.

"Ron! Don't _do_ that!" she exclaimed, placing a hand on her heart as she turned to face the slightly sheepish man behind her.

"Sorry 'Mione, didn't mean to scare you", he paused, examining her appearance; which quickly turned to irritation once again, "Is he still not answering?"

"No," Hermione growled out, "and I'm really starting to get worried. He said he was fine, but he sure as hell didn't sound it!"

She nibbled her lip, "Maybe one of us should go and check on him, we really shouldn't have sent him all alone in the first place, and I feel absolutely awful and what if-"

"'_Mione._ Calm down," Ron interrupted, "I'm sure he's okay, he can look after himself, he doesn't need you chasing after him all the time, and didn't he say he had lost his phone anyway? Of course he isn't going to pick up, you're worrying _way_ too much."

Hermione didn't look convinced.

"You didn't talk to him Ron, he sounded really strained, and he didn't answer any of my questions properly, and that was over two days ago! Anything might have happened to him!"

Ron rolled his eyes in exasperation. It was at this point that another red head appeared, having caught the tail end of the conversation.

"_What _could have happened to Harry?" Ginny asked anxiously, her large brown eyes wide with question.

Ron gave a sigh of irritated exasperation. Women. He decided to intervene before things got really out of hand.

"Nothing Ginny, I'm sure Harry is absolutely fine, I bet he just got caught up with work is all. He'll call up in a couple of days and be perfectly well, unharmed, mentally stable and _alive. _He's not gonna drop dead just because you're not there. Jeez."

Ginny just gave a huff in response and settled herself down next to Hermione, intent on calling Harry herself, while Hermione pursed her lips, not believing anything until she had spoken and seen Harry for herself.

* * *

At precisely 8:22 in the morning, Draco woke from his slumber, inwardly cursing for falling asleep in such an awkward position and so causing the muscles in his neck to be more sore than usual. 

He quickly rolled sideways off the bed, letting his feet land gracefully onto the carpeted floor, allowing his momentum to raise him to standing.

After a moment, Draco was able to discern what was so odd about the morning; the wood pigeons had started their usual cooing, the weak sunlight warming the crisp autumn air, and no Harry to be seen, save for a small tuft of pitch hair peeking above the other side of the bed.

With a raised eyebrow, the vampire smoothly crossed the room, sidestepped the chaise and faced the huddled form of his lovely little charmant, who he was displeased to see had dried tear tracks coating his cheeks.

Remaining silent, Draco appraised the others form and decided that it was probably best to be practical. After his inspection, he quickly turned to one of his dressers and pulled out one of his smaller shirts; Harry was smaller than himself after all.

Turning back to see that Harry had still not moved, he threw the shirt at his head, oddly satisfied when the contact made the other man look up, startled by the sudden invasion of his personal space by flying pieces of clothing.

At Harry's blank look, Draco sighed, " If you hadn't noticed already, _darling_, the clothing that you are currently wearing has rather a large amount of blood on it." He continued amusedly, " If you don't want me to start sucking on it, you should probably change, I'm afraid I'm finding it rather distracting."

Deciding that he didn't quite like the rather lecherous smirk on the vampires face, Harry swiftly removed his blood stained shirt as quickly as possible, and whipped the new one on, trying his best _not_ to think that it belonged to Draco and smelt incredibly good.

He was also quite sure that he failed miserably as he felt the blush on his cheeks and saw that Draco's grin had become even wider. Bastard.

Harry finally straightened up from his crouch, stretching slightly to get the kinks out of his back. After last night, he was left feeling pleasantly numb, if not a little scared about this morning. It was best for him to think one bit at a time.

He glanced at Draco, wondering which of his questions to ask first. He had quite a lot of them you see, mainly on what the hell was happening to him, what was he going to do now, and so on. Feeling a little cold, he wrapped his arms about himself and lent against a nearby wall, waiting for Draco to start the conversation. He didn't need to wait long.

The vampire sighed, and sent a slight glance over his shoulder and moved so that the faced the window, and the morning sunshine; it illuminated him in a particularly beautiful manner.

"You'll probably be glad to know that you haven't simply woken after two days a fledged vampire. The Turning process can last up to a few weeks, it… varies you see." He turned to face the window, still able to see Harry's reflection in the glass.

"What's going to happen to me?" asked Harry, he was almost scared to hear the answer but was truthful enough with himself to know that it was required.

Draco tilted his head to the side, appraising Harry much like a cat does a mouse.

"Well over the next few days…your new teeth should start to come through, you'll slowly wean off the need to sleep or breath, and of course," said Draco with a rather insidious smile, "you shall begin to develop the urge to feed."

Harry shivered, the tremors racking his frame. He didn't know whether it was from the mention of feeding, however, or from the low, silky voice that the blonde used to describe it.

Draco watched with great satisfaction as his little minuo got himself under control once again; Harry was so easy to play with. Very receptive.

He continued,

"For now, just avoid direct sunlight, it won't hurt but you'll be a little…. sensitive to it for another week or so, especially your eyes."

Harry nodded, perfectly aware that Draco would be able to tell that he was doing so. He didn't think that anything that the vampire did would truly surprise him anymore.

Draco finally turned away from the window, and strode purposefully to a cabinet in the corner, which opened to reveal several various bottles of alcohol and a few wineglasses, one of which Draco promptly removed and filled with a shot of dark cherry liquid. Wineglass dangling from his fingertips, he settled himself in one of the more comfortable armchairs, proficiently ignoring Harry's incredulous expression.

"You are aware that it's barely nine thirty in the morning, aren't you?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, "What about it?" and sipped delicately.

Harry merely sighed in defeat and let the tension drop out of his shoulders; he wouldn't even bother to try to understand the other man's reasoning, most likely because he couldn't argue with it either.

He simply decided to stare out the window blankly, his mind crunching through all the information it had had to take in that morning. He idly noticed it was cold outside, despite the sunlight; it could be seen as the slowly melting frost covering the lawns outside.

"It's Monday today, right?" asked Harry, as a sudden thought occurred to him.

Draco looked up from his wineglass, vividly recalling the last time Harry had inquired about the date; he was quite sure that it involved a mobile flying out the window and sailing into the shrubbery.

"Yes, it is," he replied evenly.

"Shit." Harry just _knew_ that Hermione would be throwing a fit, conniptions and all, he hadn't called her back since Friday, especially since he had been cut off the last time. The woman could be so bothersome at times. Well, most of the time actually.

With that thought in mind, he turned to the door, intent on locating his missing phone; he couldn't just leave it out there anyway.

Draco observed him leave through the doorway with hooded eyes; inwardly thinking of how glad he was that Harry had forgotten to ask about the masked shadow from Friday night.

* * *

As predicted, it was bitingly cold outside and Harry hugged his arms about the jacket he had hastily stolen from his bag on the way down. From the result of the weather, he found it rather unnerving that there was no billowing cloud of white from his breathe, which _would_ have appeared only three days before.

Shaking off his uneasiness, he concentrated on moving closer to his destination. The grounds, which had been so mysterious at night, were now illuminated with a muted glow, the thawing frost reflecting the light. He passed round a corner and was faced with the gardens.

Which happened to include the raised walkway and the black iron spiked gate.

Feeling inexplicably drawn, he made his way down the path, pausing as he reached the end.

It was hard to believe he was looking at the spot where he had _died._ He had ceased his being with the living right here. It was difficult to process considering he was still there, capable of observing it.

Of course, the bloodstains made it easier. He supposed that it hadn't rained so far, and Draco had obviously had other things to do other than worry about a little bit of blood.

It was encrusted on the barb he had impaled himself on, flaking slightly from the rough edges. It also remained pooled on the stone slabs underneath his feet, the once thick red having been dried to a rusty brown.

To think that it was his own, and that it had all occurred just two nights ago. He had vaguely begun to wonder whether it had actually happened at all; it just seemed so far fetched.

But as he stood there, staring at the site where he had met his demise, died and then been given the chance to wake again, it was impossible for him to think any differently. He had died, he was dead, yet he still existed, if in a new form; it was an interesting concept. And one that made his brain hurt by trying to think about it.

He sighed, silently mourning the loss of his past life; he had a new one now, not that he really knew what it would include or what had happened to his future. _Forward_, that's what he had to think

A glint of silver caught the corner of his eye and he turned.

Draco's sword was still embedded in the tree, piercing through a black cloak that fluttered in the wind; the mask perched upon it like a puppet.

A nervous mixture of curiosity, excitement and fear filled him as he took a few hesitant steps closer, halting at a respectable distance. Harry was well aware of how fast that thing could move.

It looked innocent now, it a foreboding kind of way. The red glow had vanished from the eyes, but the contrast of black fabric on pale tree bark gave the scene an ill-omened feel all the same.

He had almost forgotten about what had caused his run in with the gate. Now, he wondered how it could have been driven from his mind so easily; the figure was haunting.

So entranced with watching the figure pinned to the tree, when he saw movement from his peripheral vision he was so startled he nearly fell over.

Instead, he observed as Draco gracefully walked past him, and lifted a hand to wrench the sword from its position.

"What is it?" Harry asked, unable to keep his inquisitiveness withheld any longer.

Draco tensed slightly, carefully wording his answer before he gave it.

"A spirit or perhaps a wraith," he said lowly.

Seeing Harry's blank look, he decided to elaborate. "I have not seen them for a very long time…it is worrying to see one of them once again. Once men, now shadows," he paused, and looked over his shoulder to Harry, " they used to serve my father."

'His…father…?'thought Harry as he watched Draco remove the thin silver sword and carefully pick up the remains. The mask, he noticed, had a slight crack running across it.

A raven's caw rang through the air, greatly different than the usual coo of the wood pigeons.

Harry glanced at the vampire's expression, it was troubled, and he looked deep in thought as he walked back to the house. He was just in range to hear the blonde's last sentence,

"The creatures he would mockingly call Death Eaters."

For some reason unknown to him, the word made Harry shiver, and caused the scar on his forehead to tingle unpleasantly. Looking back to the cloak and mask in Draco's hand he wondered slightly on what the other man was going to do with them. He vindictively hoped it was something destructive.

He was subsequently surprised to find something hurled at his head; only exceptionally quick reflexes let him catch it. He peered down at what was in his hand and blinked when he realised that his was his missing phone.

Lifting his head to stare at the retreating vampire, Harry found himself completely unsurprised.

* * *

Draco stared into the hearth, the crackling embers a soothing reminder of days gone by. He was located in his study, the thick embroidered curtains closed, throwing the room into darkness.

His charmant sat curled in one of the chairs opposite, his venture out this morning having taken a heavy toll considering his new found sensitivity to sunlight. He mused that he probably shouldn't have let Harry out so soon, but decided that it was best that he realise for himself how painful long exposure could be in the beginning. He was more likely to listen about future side effects that way.

When Harry had returned form the grounds he had quickly found himself with perhaps the worst blister of a pressure headache he had ever felt. Draco had swiftly found the darkest room possible and locked them inside, a rather malicious smirk on his face while doing so.

Harry was now attempting to keep his eyes as closed as possible; the headache was now gone but his eyes were still stabbing severely with pain. He grumbled to himself about _stupid vampirism_ and _dumb blondes who should give proper_ _warnings_ as he wrapped his arms around his knees and snuggled further into the back of the armchair.

Draco was highly amused when Harry managed to lull himself to sleep with his own murmurings. With a small smile on his face, Draco turned back to stare into the fireplace, another wineglass hanging between his fingers.

He sipped languorously, thoughts running through his head at great speed. Why had a Death Eater shown up, he had thought they had disappeared along with his father all those years ago. For one to suddenly appear after over three hundred years, it was troubling indeed.

Even worse, why did they have to reappear now, of all times, Draco glanced at the slumbering form of his minuo in the corner. Harry needed a lot of attention with his Turning, he had to look after his little fledgling, especially until Harry had learnt enough to take care of himself.

Not that Draco had any intention of letting him go at any point of course, but for now Harry was very fragile and vulnerable, and Draco had never had an encounter with his father that had not ended in blood shed. If his father had even returned that was.

Draco gave a tired sigh, and downed the remains of his wineglass in one go. He would need to visit Severus, both about his father and about Harry.

Draco gave another glimpse to the sleeping figure; he could really do with another feed to take the edge off his nerves.

* * *

Harry awoke to the feel of cool lips pressing themselves pleasantly against his neck and down his shoulders. He moaned lightly under the ministrations, keeping his eyes firmly shut, his mind still hazy from sleep.

There was a little nip along his collar and the brunette came back to his senses with a husky yelp. He quickly took in the situation.

Somehow, while still keeping him asleep, Draco had positioned them so that he was straddling Harry's waist, and was presently lavishing a great amount of attention on his jaw line.

He gave a gasp as the vampire ghosted over a particularly sensitive spot and immediately felt a tongue slide across his own.

Indulging in another groan of satisfaction, he twisted a hand in Draco's silver hair and let the other come to a rest on his back, content in feeling the muscles underneath.

Dark mercury eyes were slits as Draco allowed one palm to slowly trail down Harry's front, before sliding further into his charmant's pants, fingering the waistband before delving deeper.

Harry gave a sharp intake of breath as he arched forward, wide, dark green eyes to the ceiling. He began to pant as Draco's cool hand continued and his lips returned to their favoured position on his neck.

"Ah!"

Harry couldn't restrain the cry as he felt a sharp fang graze his delicate skin, drawing a thin line of crimson liquid that the vampire lapped with his tongue, hissing with delight at the sweet, coppery aroma that smacked into his mouth.

It wasn't long before pointed teeth pierced deeply into pale flesh, thick burgundy-red blood surging to the surface, staining mouth, lips and skin.

Harry's panting came harder and faster, as he vainly tried to fight off the black spots in his vision from the immense sensory excess. The awareness of Draco suckling on his neck, and the pleasurable pain that accompanied it were far too much.

He felt an instinctual _need _to bite. Something… _anything_! He tightened his fists in response, slamming his jaws together in an attempt to placate the urge. It helped, slightly, but left behind a lingering frustration that made him whimper.

Harry twitched his hips in reflex, to try to relieve some of the pressure-

The movement caused Draco to have to shift slightly, which forced his fangs in deeper. The one beneath him screamed fiercely at the unintentional position before he slumped back and let his head lean to the side, still panting harshly as his vision blanked out entirely.

Draco gently disentangled himself from the creature lying limply below him and gently eased himself from his minuo's neck, tenderly licking the wound clean. He sat back, observing his work with uttermost satisfaction as he let his pink tongue flick over his lips to remove any lasting blood.

Draco couldn't retain the deep, rumbling chuckle that accompanied his vicious smirk.

_He would take the greatest of pleasures in debauching his little lovely, __**completely**_

* * *

**A/N: How was it? The plot thickens...Personall, I can't wait until Ginny and Draco meet. It is solely for that purpose that she has an obsession with Harry. It'll end in tears, that much I can tell...sigh...so long until then. Anyway, please tell me what you think about the story and chapter so far, don't be shy! Review!**


	12. Blackwaters

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Whew, this un's a biggie. Why is it that one is inspired at the most inopportune times? In anticipation of my 100th reiview (squeals) I have made this chapter longer, and written practically all of it this weekend, when i had tons of work as well. So please be nice and review, it will make me REALLY happy! I'm not sure wether i like this chapter, but it had to be done, Harry's back story springs forth. I hate it when backstory is all split up, so I got everything out in one chapter. It nearly killed me, but it's done. So please read nad enjoy, and I'm really sorry for the long wait.**

**Warnings: **a hell of a lot of back story to sort through.

* * *

**Blackwaters**

It was dark. The only light was coming from the low burning flickering candle in the corner, shedding its husky yellow glow on the walls. He wondered what had caused him to wake him so suddenly, small pale hands clutching to the thick blankets and coverlet that were draped over his form.

From beyond the door, he heard the noise of lowered voices and the swish of cloth, like the ones of his mother's many long skirts. He slunk from between the sheets and snuck to the curtained window, peering out to see a gibbous silver moon in the sky, with the night as black as pitch.

He let the curtains fall back, and glanced curiously at the heavy wooden door opposite, why would anyone be awake at this time of night, not to mention to be up and about. Perhaps it was something to do with the strange visitors lately?

As footsteps echoed through the hallway as they passed his room, he felt himself shudder. Wherever they walked, they seemed to bring a peculiar draught with them; one of hushed whispers and nameless fear.

Unable to stop, he walked towards the door, his apprehension rising, breathe coming heavier and faster. His hands began to tremor with nerves and he swallowed convulsively, a meaningless longing for his mother welling up inside of him.

He didn't want to know what was outside that door, but he couldn't discontinue, it was far too late by this point, it was already over, it had been for a long time; he had just never realised it until this moment, he didn't want to see, but he also knew it was a complete impossibility for him to stay here, safe and warm locked in this chamber, they would find him, and there would be nowhere to run, even now there was little chance for his escape, his hand was reaching for the handle, he couldn't help the incessant fluttering of his heart, it was all over, many months in the making and it was all coming to a crash tonight.

And yet he couldn't prevent his hand from reaching out and throwing him to the middle of all this madness.

* * *

Draco awoke with a gasp, still shaking slightly from the vivid memories from his dream. Or rather, his memory. 

He pulled himself to a sitting position, noticing as he did so that both he and the still slumbering Harry remained in a contorted position on the large, rather comfortable armchair. They must have fallen asleep after he had fed.

The vampire brought a pale hand to his temple, willing the lingering thoughts to be banished from his mind. He hadn't thought about that night for a long time, and was irritated that it had decided to invade his conscious once again.

Draco let out a tired sigh; he supposed that everything was stirring up at the moment. Old and new, he thought with a glance to the sleeping form of his charmant.

The knowledge did not improve his mood, however, and merely added to his growing sense of unease.

He glanced to the fireplace, seeing the flames had diminished to sparking embers. He extracted himself from the entwined embrace with Harry and went to the window, confirming his thoughts on the time; evening had set in, and with it the darkness of the night.

It was still early however, and there was still plenty of time to go about any business that required tending to. Perfect.

He let his gaze slide to his little minuo once again, pondering the most amusing way to go about rousing him, it was so enjoyable to see him all angry and flustered.

Suffice to say, Harry was not best pleased when he was torn from his pleasant napping, being roughly shoved off the plush cushions of the armchair and onto the decidedly less comfy floor.

Giving a bleary glare to the unrepentant blonde above him, he stumbled his way up to standing, his breathing slightly laboured; he supposed it was due to Draco's little meal earlier.

Draco waited patiently for Harry to regain his posture before appraising his form fully; a little ruffled, but surprising well maintained considering all the delicious things they'd done. Harry's hair, which had smoothed down slightly was now mussed again in a way that made Draco flick his tongue over his pink lips, but he refrained from acting on impulse. Barely though, his little charmant looked positively delightful at the moment, made all the better with the slight fire in his greens eyes.

It did not take long for Harry to notice the vampire's stare, nor to realise what it meant. Huffing in irritation, and adamantly trying to cover the rising blush on his cheeks, he straightened out his ruffled shirt, taking extra care than was strictly necessary. Damn that bloody vampire! Making him feel so uncomfortable, and he knew it too, if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.

Quelling any violent urges that had suddenly made an appearance, Harry decided to ask.

"Would you _mind_, telling me _why_ you had to wake me up like that?"

"Not at all darling," purred Draco, appearing all to smug to Harry's displeasure, "I merely attempted to induce the most…_interesting_…reaction possible."

As Harry's eyes flashed gleaming verdant, Draco decided he had riled his minuo up enough for one evening.

"That," Draco sighed, "and we have a visit to make."

Harry blinked; his eyes dulling back to deep green, confusion replacing any lingering fury against the irritatingly calm blonde.

"Visit? Where are we supposed to be going? Why are we going?"

Draco leant against the chaise, regarding Harry through hooded smoky eyes, which had the dreaded blush return to creep up on his face again.

Draco made a wickedly luscious picture, with the flickering light illuminating his silver hair and lying far too languorously for any other creature to ever be able to emulate.

There was something about Draco at that moment that seemed to capture everything that Draco was; seductive, dark and covered in blood.

Harry shivered; he found the image far too alluring. And wasn't that a frightening thought?

"You'll see," Draco, said simply, yet with an accompanying condescending tone all the while as he sashayed his way past and out the door.

Harry scowled. Sometimes he really hated that creature that called itself Draco.

The wind stirred a few more stubborn leaves from their branches and the night sky above was a thick soft blanket of velvet above them.

* * *

Harry was quite amazed that the both of them seemed to make no noise at all as they moved down the front lawns. By all rights the crunching of dried leaves underneath their feet should have been enough to make their presence heard, but…silence, only the wind whispering through the leaves. 

He probably would have expected it from Draco. The worst thing was that he did not expect it of himself. He would be lying if he didn't admit that it disturbed him, it was difficult to grasp that he wasn't the same anymore, and that soon he would be completely different all together.

Harry let his brow furrow as he walked, losing himself to his troubled thoughts.

A hallowing shriek suddenly rent through the air, jarring the ambience and making him start greatly, a flash of pale white streaking past him.

"You're not scared of the dark as well are you Harry?" came Draco's amused voice.

Harry noted that it sounded rather close. In fact, it tickled the skin of his ear. Looking up, he was startled to see Draco leaning so close to him.

It was only then that he realised with dismay that in his surprise he had clutched to the blonde and was now pressed _very _firmly against him, with Draco practically holding him upright.

He threw a glare over his shoulder to the disappearing ghostly peacock as it fled across the path and into the depths of the yew hedge.

Harry fervently hoped that the stupid bird would starve to death or, failing a slow demise, would at least get eaten by a particularly rabid fox.

Once he realised that Draco had started to laugh, he brusquely pushed him away and, upon noticing that the vampire still looked far too amused, gave him a sharp whack.

"You should be careful you know," said Draco scowling, inspecting his arm in a detached fashion, "in a few days, that might have actually hurt a little."

Harry stopped and stared in incredulity, while Draco merely continued to walk. When the other man turned back, Harry was quite infuriated that the mocking amusement was still in his eyes.

Closing his eyes in a plea of pacifying patience, Harry caught up to stride alongside as they walked to…actually he _still_ he didn't know where they were going.

"Draco, would you mind telling me where on earth we are going?" asked Harry.

"We are going on a visit." Draco replied primly, sounding perfectly refined.

Harry rolled his eyes in severe annoyance.

"Yes Draco, I got that. _Who_ are we visiting, and _why_?"

Draco sighed, "We are checking in with a friend of mine, Severus. I need to check some things for you and as he is also a vampire he should have a supply of some of the things we shall…require," said Draco rather ambiguously. "He can be a bit…irritable, so don't take anything he says personally."

Harry chose not to answer to that.

* * *

They turned what felt like the hundredth corner. At least, to Harry it did. The town was much larger than he had previously imagined. It had seemed small on arrival with Hermione all those many days ago; possibly it was seeing everything at night, with long shadows hanging everywhere that made everything appear more intricate and extensive. 

A rectangular, slightly rusted iron plate loomed out of the darkness, bolted to the top of the brick wall of the avenue and painted emulsion white. He could just distinguish the black lettering that proclaimed the road as 'Blackwaters Street'.

Harry let himself glance at Draco once again, before following him down the pavement, suddenly feeling apprehensive. It was the jittering kind of nervousness one gets when being introduced to the hitherto unknown.

Until now, the only …_dark_ person he had ever met was Draco. He was now to meet another and he couldn't shake the ridiculous feeling that he was about to be judged and found wanting.

Draco suddenly took a sharp twist in front of him and knocked on one of the old, heavy wooden doors that characterised the entire lane. Harry moved swiftly to his side, wanting to stick as close to the _known_ vampire as possible.

The door opened a fraction and they were both ushered inside. The room they entered into was more like a laboratory or a classroom than anything normally found in a house.

They were several movable chairs placed randomly about, with numerous crowded bookshelves lining the walls. The ceiling was low and the one small window was firmly blacked out by thick, coarse cloth. At the far end was a door, made of small and thin wood and beside it, a large flat surface upon which lay various herbs, jars and what looked like something Harry could only refer to as a cauldron.

At his perusal of the room, he did not notice who had let them enter, until he swooped right past him back to the desk, reminding Harry invariably of a bat, and making him edge back towards Draco for safety.

Pointedly ignoring the once again amused blonde, he decided to study the man who was bending over one of the larger cauldrons, which he only just realised seemed to give off a slightly ominous vapour. The man himself was just as menacing; his thick curtain of slick black hair, hooked nose and so pale, as to look sallow skin was rather intimidating. Or perhaps it was merely his obvious ire at being interrupted.

Harry gave a quick glance to the man by his side, who appeared as if he expected nothing less.

Harry bit his lip slightly, desperately resisting the urge to fidget, no one had said anything and the silence was wearing on his already thin nerves. He nearly sighed with relief when Draco sauntered forward, weaving his way through the spindle like chairs with grace. Harry hesitantly followed.

"You know Severus, you seem even more irate than you usually are, what's bothering you now?" drawled Draco smoothly, settling himself by leaning against the desk, observing the other man with lazy eyes.

Severus gave a light snarl as he deftly threw something into the concoction he was brewing and sarcastically replied, his tone dripping with acid "What else, but Lupin and that damnable Black? It is bad enough that he _forces_ me to make this cursed potion for him, but that he must also decide to supervise me as well!"

Draco seemed unaffected by the man's manner and merely raised an eyebrow.

"I am sure Mr.Lupin is not here to _supervise _you,he probably just wants to make sure that nothing could possibly go wrong with his _vital_ medicines."

Severus gave him a dark glare and muttered something along the lines of "It's the same thing."

"Does that mean that our resident werewolf is here as well?" Draco inquired. Behind him, Harry gave a small start. Werewolves? Fantastic. He glanced nervously around, as if expecting one to just jump out at him. Fuck. It really was _not_ helping his tension.

"Yes," said Severus disdainfully, "and he had to bring his little friend along with him. They are both insufferable and I can only imagine that either come here, just to make me murderous with fury and subject me to their insufferable company." He finished by glaring caustically at the door to his left.

At his point, Harry was fervently hoping that he never became a target of the man's irritation. Ever. He was also counting himself lucky that he appeared not to have been noticed yet.

Severus sighed, straightening from his bent position to face Draco.

"And what do _you_ want Draco? You never come here unless you need something. Then again, you have been sleeping for a very _long_ time, who knows what's going through that blonde head of yours."

Harry was beginning to see where Draco might have gotten his condescending tones from.

"Now, now Severus, there's no need to be so bad-tempered, I was under the impression that you _preferred_ solitude and eternal loneliness. I am ever so sorry if I misunderstood your intentions on the matter."

Harry saw Severus's lip curl with aggravation as he stared at the blonde with dark, unfathomable eyes. Harry felt his breathe catch as that gaze settled on him, not lifting until he apparently found whatever he was searching for.

The man eventually sighed in something akin to defeat.

"What do you want Draco?" he asked much more tiredly, "and if its what I think its about than please, wait until I have finished with Mr.Lupin. I have the most curios sense that what you wish to discuss will leave me with the strong desire to drink myself under the table."

Draco had the decency to utter a small "perhaps". Silence reigned again, and Harry finally gave into the urge to worry his bottom lip between his teeth in anxiety.

* * *

Fortunately for the abuse Harry was giving his bottom lip, the silence was broken barely two minutes later. 

"Sirius!" came a stern voice from beyond the door in the corner. All three paused to stare at the balsa wood, two with curiosity and one with resigned dread.

There was a series of muffled indistinct noises and then, "Sirius! Will you stop doing that!"

There was quite for a moment before there was a rather large thud, which made all three listeners wince.

"Now look what you've done. No, don't try to help; you'll only make it worse. I can't take you anywhere." Said the same long-suffering voice.

Harry glanced towards Severus, he was inwardly rather surprised that he had not exploded with seething rage by this point. In fact, he looked…oddly resigned. Peering at the door again, Harry could only presume this was a regular occurrence.

Draco appeared to have come to the same conclusion, if the smirk he sent Severus was any indication.

He turned his attention to the doorway as two men came through it. The first had greying light brown hair and Harry couldn't decide if he looked more like a librarian, a teacher or a scholar. He appeared to hold the delicate sensibilities of all three. He had lines upon his face, particularly around the eyes. The second was trailing unrepentantly behind the other. He presumed this was Sirius. It was odd, considering he held all the features of the classically refined yet he appeared to be rather unrefined in behaviour.

The first, Lupin, tentatively approached the desk, and Severus.

"I'm terribly sorry Severus, it was only a few books, all tidied up," he said with a mild voice, "Sirius will _never do anything of the sort again__**, will you Sirius**_"

Sirius however, didn't seem too perturbed by the threat the werewolf gave him and merely stared at Severus with cool indifference, as he answered, "of course not Remus."

Remus gave a slight sigh at the response and turned around to find a chair, only in the process spotting that there were others present. He gave a little start, giving a small smile to Draco. Though it seemed rather strained.

"Draco, how nice it is to see you, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt you like this but I'm afraid I wasn't expecting anyone to be visiting Severus tonight."

"It is perfectly fine Mr.Lupin, there isn't exactly a schedule and I am known to be mysterious in my doings," the blonde replied, sounding a little amused at the other's apologetic manner.

Sirius, however, wasn't looking at the vampire. As Remus turned back, he was startled to notice that he looked positively white, as if he had seen a spectre of the living.

"Sirius, are you all right?" he asked lowly, staring at the handsome man questioningly.

He did not reply however, and Remus was forced to twist to see what had caused thr reaction.

He was rewarded with the sight of a boy, no, young man, with dark hair, pale skin and green eyes. Which were currently wide at the scrutinising inspection that Sirius was conducting over his form.

Harry wasn't sure quite what to make of the stare he was receiving from the other man, but it most definitely unnerved him; there was some sort of recognition in those eyes and he was sure that he had never met this man before in his life.

When Sirius took a step towards him, he couldn't help but step back slightly.

"James…"whispered Sirius. Harry was so startled by the name that he halted his retreat, which really was a fortunate thing, as another step and he would have fallen right over the spindle chair behind him.

Grey eyes snapped back to focus but were quickly replaced with a look of desperation. Sirius strode forward, still pale as anything, and ignoring the warning growl of "Sirius…" that came from Remus.

Draco was watching the unfolding event with narrowed eyes, his nails digging into the desk and his body tense to move at the slightest provocation. He did not like the look that mortal was giving _his_ minuo.

Harry was distressed to find that he couldn't move. He was stuck in place as Sirius fixed him with a sharp gaze.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Sirius distractedly, "you just reminded me of someone else is all…"

Harry quickly glanced away; managing to slide past the chair and break the stare Sirius had held him in. The man himself seemed to have realised what he had just done and seemed a little embarrassed over his actions. Harry also didn't miss the nervous glance sent to the observing Draco by the desk either.

"That's alright…" said Harry awkwardly, vainly trying to remove any lingering alarm that raced through his nerves.

Sirius walked back a little ways and sat himself down on one of the stiff wooden chairs, "So, er, what's your name anyways…?" asked Sirius, just as awkwardly. Remus just sighed in deep annoyance and took a seat himself.

"Oh, um, Harry," he replied, feeling very unbalanced.

"Harry…" Sirius repeated in a hoarse voice, disbelieving. He cast wide eyes up to Remus, pleading to ask.

Remus had turned a little pale himself, and his voice was strained as he spoke.

"Oh? Would…would your second name, perhaps, be…Potter?"

Harry blinked. This situation could not possibly get any stranger than it was now, he decided. Why were these people asking about his name, why did they have a weird reaction to him? He was certain he did not know either of them; he was valiantly trying to think of some reason for this rather peculiar state of affairs.

Harry nodded slightly, not wanting to voice his answer in case something very bad were to happen afterwards.

Both Remus and Sirius stared at him for a moment, an odd light in their eyes.

He didn't even see Sirius move, but was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the abruptly sobbing man clinging to the front of his shirt, mumbling things that he could not begin to understand.

"Oh my god…I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…I never meant for it to be this way, they'll never forgive me, is' all my fault, should have never…never…"

Remus meanwhile, had just sat heavily on the nearest chair, not even attempting to calm Sirius down, or try to remove his presence from Harry's rather sensitive personal space, which causing him to writhe awkwardly in his hold.

Fortunately for Harry, Draco's patience had finally ebbed.

"_I think, _that you should remove and explain yourself Mr.Black," said Draco coldly, his voice cutting through the distressing atmosphere and echoing slightly off the deep red, wood panelled walls.

The candlelight flickered.

Sirius jerked from his daze, eyes still shining, and coughed to clear his throat before moving back to settle himself down next to Remus and sighing.

He sat there for a moment before flicking his gaze to Harry and then back to the floor. He did this several times, before closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath. Harry absently noted that the man looked far more composed than mere moments ago when he had attached himself to his shirtfront for apparently no reason at all.

He ran a hand slowly through his hair, pausing with the palm still covering half of his face. He gave another glance to Harry before finally beginning to speak.

"It's a long story…you should all sit down."

Harry hesitated slightly, looking nervously over to Draco, who still hadn't moved from his spot on the desk. His head was tilted so that his hair hung over his face, making it near impossible to discern his features or work out what he was thinking.

Harry quickly sat down, biting his already swollen bottom lip, preferably for the last time that night.

"I suppose I should start with telling you who we are, shouldn't I?"

Harry felt his rage surge at this comment. He had spent the entire evening hopelessly lost and confused, or at least that's what it had seemed like. He felt something fume within him from not being informed of anything, by being left in the dark and acting as if he wasn't there.

"Yes, that would be remarkably considerate of you," spat Harry venomously. He was in no desire to be nice at the moment. Quite a change from only a few minutes beforehand.

Sirius had the utmost decency to laugh at that; his voice rough and making it sound a lot like the barking of a dog.

"I'm Sirius Black and that," he said, pointing lazily, "is Remus Lupin. We are-…were friends of your parents, good friends. Actually, they even named me your godfather, though that was a long time ago…"he trailed off softly.

Harry felt some of his irritation disperse, they had known his parents? He didn't know anything about them, the Dursleys had never been exactly fond of mentioning them, and his Aunt even had pretended that she had never had a sister at all. Not a hard thing to do, thought Harry bitterly.

He had never even known how they had died, oh, there were plenty of vague references to it, but never a direct answer, _'don't ask questions',_ after all.

Hope that he finally might get some long searched for closure on that part of his life; he ardently waited for Sirius, _his godfather, _to continue.

Sirius looked at him questioningly, "Do you…do you know?"

Harry merely stared, his ire rising again at being left feeling sufficiently ignorant.

" I mean, about what happened that night? About all of us?" Sirius quickly amended on seeing Harry's rather blank look.

As there was no change in Harry's stare of incomprehension, Sirius sighed once again, mumbling a soft "though not" under his breath.

"Your Aunt never did like what we did, thought it was…what did she call it? Oh yes, unnatural, though I bet it was just because she could never do anything, I caught her watching us more than once…."

"Do what, what did you do?" asked Harry sharply. It was becoming very frustrating with Sirius trailing off all the time. By the low growl coming from the desk, he presumed it was irritating Draco as well.

The prompt seemed to have an effect, as Sirius suddenly rushed onwards, plunging on headfirst.

"Well, it was more of what we were _capable_ of doing, you see. There is…a world, a world underneath what you normally see. It's like…" Sirius frowned to himself, unsure of how to properly phrase it. The world to which they knew was a very immaterial thing in itself, linked only by certain places and people. It was even more indecipherable to humans such as themselves.

"Like an underworld?" Harry asked, secretly feeling morbidly amused. He already knew plenty about that; he could still feel Draco's tongue sliding across his skin, his fangs sharply piercing into his flesh. He couldn't retain his shiver as it raced up his spine.

Sirius didn't seem to notice, though Remus, who had remained silent so far, did and furrowed his brow slightly. Severus seemed completely unfazed by the conversation, but Harry could tell he was listening, even as he kept a close eye on his potion as he bent over searching his desk for his notes.

"Yes, I suppose you could call it that. We only discovered it because of old Moony over here."

"I am not old Sirius, perhaps it would be better for me to explain the rest?"

Harry nodded, feeling that Remus would probably give a better overview than Sirius, who appeared to get distracted easily.

"I suppose it all starts with me being a werewolf, yes, they do exist. I was young when I received the bite, but it was enough. Growing up, it was…difficult to make friends without them becoming suspicious of my condition. My mother had to move us on more than one occasion. It was when I entered secondary school that everything changed, that I made four great friends; Sirius, Peter Pettigrew, Lily Evans and of course James Potter."

Not entirely sure where this was going, but glad to be finally reaching some answers, Harry listened raptly; he had never heard a good word spoken about his parents after all, and the lack of knowledge had hung over him for years.

Remus continued, "We were friends all through school, doing practically everything together, once James was finally able to get Lily to go out with him; he was rather persistent." Remus gave a small smile in remembrance.

"Of course, we couldn't be friends for long before they noticed something was different about me, how I was ill every month and often got large scratches, which would then heal too quickly. Oddly enough, it was Peter who first found out what I am, my friends had apparently finally broke and decided that they just _had_ to know what was wrong with me, and had followed me on the night of the full moon."

Here, Remus gave a mild glare to Sirius, who sunk a little further into his seat.

"It all ended in a big confrontation the next day, and quite a bit of yelling, if I remember correctly. However, what I had feared never came to pass. All of them were completely intrigued by what I was and the world I unintentionally belonged to, instead of the fear perhaps they ought to have held."

Remus gave a wearisome sigh, the lines on his face seemingly deepening.

"They all resolved to help me on my nights of pain, Sirius still refuses to tell me _where_ they got the knowledge from, but they decided to learn to become Animagi."

"Animagi?" asked Harry confused.

It was Draco that responded, startling all three with his voice.

"They are mortals that posses the ability to turn themselves into a certain animal at will. It is a rare talent and an incredibly dangerous thing to attempt to do," said Draco, looking at Sirius with a raised eyebrow. Sirius flushed under the intense stare and rapidly glanced away.

Remus acted as if he there had been no interruption.

"Yes, it took them several years to learn how to do it, but in the end, Sirius could turn into a dog, Peter into a rat, and James, your father could transform into a rather magnificent stag. All of which spawned our nicknames, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs."

"Good times" sighed Sirius reminiscently, his eyes glazed over.

Remus gave a mirroring sigh as well as his shoulders seemed to slump.

Harry was sitting quite rigidly on his chair, waiting for the inevitable climax to the tale being spun for him. The one that was inescapable.

Remus did not disappoint.

"All was well for many years after that…and it should have remained that way. There was nothing about that night, which could have possibly hinted to what was going to occur. Everything broke, in just one single night."

Even Draco was starting to become interested in the account, despite himself. It was interesting to know more about his lovely little minuo, of course, but it had nothing to do with him. Nevertheless, he found himself patiently listening to the werewolf as he told his story. The imminent sense of dread that hung in the air in anticipation had absolutely nothing to do with it.

"Peter," said Remus bitterly and Sirius gave a rumbling growl in response, "had fallen in with the…wrong crowd. Completely unknown to any of us. It is a dangerously easy thing to slip and wind up in a problematic situation; it's a world full of dark creatures after all."

He sighed, "Peter owed them something, we never found out what, they came to call."

Remus appeared almost unable to continue for a moment. The room was strangely silent, not even the flickering candles could lift the darkening ambience.

"They wanted his life," stated Sirius suddenly, his voice permeating through the air.

"Perhaps for some sort of ritual, or maybe a sacrifice…never really read about those sorts of things. They were the wrong sorts of people, those who studied such things."

Draco refrained from commenting with practiced ease, annoyed at the ignorant mortal's words and ideas. Harry was so stiff; he was practically falling off his chair, his hands gripping the seat tightly.

Remus picked up from where Sirius left off, his voice oddly twisted from its usual mild tones, "Peter was _unwilling _to forfeit his life, even though he probably deserved it. In his cowardice he gave them an offer."

"An offer?" Harry's whisper was so soft it was barely discernable, his fingernails scratching grooves into the wood unbeknownst to him.

Remus nodded grimly, "Yes, the house where all of you were living was nearby to the alleyway they had tracked him down to. Two lives were better than one, eh?"

Harry felt suffocated, though he had no need to draw in any air, his throat felt tight and the sting of betrayal threaded its way through his chest like poison. To be offered up like that, like lambs to the slaughter, by their own best friend? He felt bile rise to the back of his mouth.

"Yes…" whispered the werewolf brokenly, " that's what Peter did. I believe they took him with him, to watch. It seemed that they found Peter's offer just as distasteful. For spite, they murdered Lily and James in their own home, and let Peter run off unharmed, but with the knowledge that he was the one that opened the door."

Silence rang absolute through the small, dusky room, all drowning in their own thoughts. Even Severus and Draco felt some revulsion at the infidelity of Peter Pettigrew.

Poor Harry was left in a tumultuous band of thoughts to sift through. He felt oddly numb, apart from the sting of tears in his eyes. He had never cried over his parents before, there had never been anything for him to mourn. But now, the loss was cut afresh, and the wound much deeper.

He took in a breath with a screeching lurch, showing his restrained sobs that were lodged in the back of his throat. Remus slowly moved to sit next to him, to attempt to offer some comfort by rubbing his back.

His only true comfort, however, was the soothing gaze he could feel on his back that he knew came from the hoary eyed vampire.

Sirius was still bent, silent, over his chair. It was his rough voice that broke the quiet.

"I was the first one there, you know, " he said weakly, "to find them, just laying there…I think I nearly had a heart attack when you started crying though."

Harry looked up to stare at him, taking in the wry grin that twisted his features.

"I was so…relieved. I had thought for one terrible moment that all three of you were taken. You were alive…that was a good thing."

Remus interrupted with a sigh at this point, "And then Sirius had to do something remarkably stupid," he said with a reprimanding glare to said man.

Sirius just scowled in return, though Harry was certain he could see a faint blush to his cheeks.

"I arrived soon after and you were handed straight to me, Sirius mumbling away all the while as he went off into the night to attempt to find out what had happened, leaving me with you, and the police that had come to investigate."

Pausing, Remus briefly glanced at the form of the other, before resuming, "It apparently didn't take him long to find out what Peter had done. It took him even less time to start hunting for him-"

"What would've _you_ done Remus!? Oh, I'm sure you would have been flawlessly rational, and would have let others deal with him, because you're oh so PERFECT!"

Sirius had stood in his anger, knocking his chair to the floor, his eyes positively spitting with indignation.

Remus snarled in reply, his eyes darkening to amber, "Who do you think you are talking to Sirius?! I _never_ said I was perfect, or that I _wouldn't_ have done the same thing as you, neither of us could prevent what was going to happen!"

Sirius quietened at that and Harry took the opportunity to speak, "Why, what did he do?"

Sirius glanced at Harry, all wrath leaving him, before replying,

"Fucked everything up, that's what."

Remus decided to elaborate, "Sirius sought Peter out, and managed to catch up to him the very next day and upon seeing him, promptly tried to eviscerate him."

"He deserved it!" spat Sirius.

"Yes, I know he did," said Remus tiredly; it was obvious that they had had this conversation many times before.

"Anyway, it was broad daylight and there were several witnesses to Sirius's declarations of agonizing vengeance. Needless to say, Peter was bleeding substantially by the time the required five policeman turned up to restrain him. In the commotion Peter managed to flee and Sirius was led away laughing like a some sort of psychopath."

Harry looked to Sirius with raised eyebrows. Sirius appeared at least a little ashamed of his actions, not meeting anyone gaze and staring resolutely at the floorboards.

"Come to think of it, it was probably a good thing he was laughing. It made his plea of temporary insanity all the more believable."

Remus heaved another remorseful sigh, "Of course, while sorting all of _that_ misunderstanding out, you were placed with your Aunt as your new guardian by the authorities. We never saw you again."

Harry just stared at the two men across from him, how could he take in so much information in all one sitting?

Yet, at the same time, he was glad. He finally had the answer to a question that he thought would never be revealed to him. Though the circumstances in which his parents met their end were far different than any had ever imagined them to be.

He felt the lingering pangs of anger and sorrow, but mainly, he just felt…at peace. The burning part of his past was now resolved, and it left him satiated.

Perhaps now he could move on into the future, he thought, with a fleeting look to the vampire that was still leaning on the desk languorously.

* * *

All five men were silent, they had been for the better part of an hour ever since Remus and Sirius had finished their tale. It was a morose atmosphere indeed when Severus declared the potion that Remus required finished. 

It was as he was clearing up, and that they began to rouse from their positions that Remus allowed his discomfort to show.

He shared a look with Sirius, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Now that they had found Harry, they could finally start to try to make everything up to him, Sirius was sure that Petunia would have despised Harry just as much as Lily. He deserved someone to care about him.

At the moment, there was one thing particularly bothering him.

"Harry?" he asked softly.

The brunette turned at the sound of his name, green eyes glowing slightly in the low light.

"Yes?"

"Something's been bothering me…_just what are you doing here?"_

"Wh-what? What do you mean?" sputtered Harry confusedly.

"Why have you come here to Severus? He's a vampire; do you know how dangerous this is? What are you doing here in the first place?"

"I think," said Remus carefully, as he watched Draco finally stir from his position on the desk and saunter forwards, "that what we should be asking is why Harry is with _him_."

* * *

**A/N: So, how was it? I apologize if the back story was a slog to work through, I tired to make it as interesting as possible. Sigh, i'm not really happy with the 1st reaction when siri meets harry, but i couldnn't do any better. #Bangs head against wall in frustration#. Anyway, next chapter should be better. And oh yes, the dreams are BACK, didn't think I'd forget those now did you? Please Review! Next chappy, more alcoholic Sevvy!**


	13. Green Dawn

Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

**A/N: I'm kinda impressed I got this out so quick, over 10,000 words in just over a week. Though, when i was editing this, i was like, wow, the quality of this really really sucks. I guess writing when half asleep doesn't help eh? So, next chapter i'll work on doing better writing. I'm gettin kinda excitied, the plots going and in a couple of chapters, Hermy and the gang are gonna come back. And someone else too at around that point, and it may not be who you think it is. Well, bit of transition this chappy, and I SO did not see the bit with siri takin SO long, but hey, whatever.**

Warnings: a lovely bout of swearin'!

* * *

**Green Dawn**

Harry started at the question, inwardly wincing at the answer. From the sharp gaze that Sirius had settled on him, he had a horrifying feeling that 'it's a long story' wasn't going to cut it.

Sirius had risen from his chair, and had his arms crossed in an accusatory manner, with Remus to his left, glancing warily at Draco.

The vampire, for his part, felt as if he had been quiet for long enough. The years had taught him some patience, but he was already growing weary of the both the werewolf's and the animagus's company. He found their attitude grating and their sudden bought of over protectiveness particularly irritating.

Then again, he thought with a malicious smirk, their horrified expressions would be invigorating; Harry belonged to _him_, and no one else.

With these thoughts in mind, Draco let himself slink forwards from his long-held position on the desk and stood by Harry's side; he was amused to see his charmant still stuttering to come up with a proper response. Draco decided to be gracious and reply for him.

Meanwhile, Harry was panicking; he had only known his godfather for less than two hours and he was already stressed out from the man. It was obvious that neither men liked Draco, they even seemed to harbour some fear for the man, how would they react to his and Draco's relation-…um…thing?

Harry felt his heart pound faster and his breathing come harsher, he was not comfortable with Sirius glaring like that, at all. His frame was tense as he floundered for an answer that wouldn't set Sirius on some sort of murderous rampage. Or Remus for that matter, if the dark looks he was giving Draco were anything to go by.

Harry felt a firm chest align behind him, and a pale arm twist around him, possessively hugging his hip. The sudden presence of the vampire was intoxicating and Harry felt his eyes become hooded as he relaxed and let out a long breath to steady the impulsive desire to turn around and bury his head in the blondes neck.

Harry felt a tickling breath on his neck, as Draco nipped his ear slightly, the touch soothing him even more, causing his body to feel oddly heavy. He felt the vibrations go through the vampire's chest as he spoke.

"Well, I would think it was quite obvious as to _why_ he's with me, don't you agree Mr.Lupin?" purred Draco complacently, his tone seductive as he nibbled slightly on his minuo's lovely little collar bone.

Harry was able to see both Remus and Sirius pale drastically, something akin to panic rising on Sirius, while Remus's eyes widened before darkening to amber, his jaw fixed tight.

Harry's attention was barely half there, however, as Draco's teeth in such close proximity to his neckline was distracting him ever so slightly from the current conversation.

Upon witnessing Harry relax in the vampire's arms, and then to see his eyes go dark and his breath husky as the fucker began …pawing him, Sirius let out a snarl, infuriated to see half-healed wounds on his godsons' neck shimmer in the candlelight.

"Don't you_ fucking _touch him, you _sick_ bastard! He's not yours to bloody play around with!"

Draco paused in his ministrations, his stillness causing his pale tresses of hair to shadow his eyes. He hovered over his charmant's neck, teeth peeking past his lips as his eyes sparked silver, his grip tightening on the figure in his hold.

Harry felt his breath catch at the increase in pressure, feeling the tension that Sirius's statement had caused. Draco remained disquietingly still as he replied, his voice soft and low,

"Do not have the incredible _foolishness_ to hold the pretence of giving _me_ orders, you incongruous little mortal."

Remus growled in warning, a rumbling timbre in the air, Sirius finally snapped.

"I WILL _NOT_ let you use him as some kind of twisted fucking _toy_, for you to suck him dry and then leave him to die in some god-forsaken alley somewhere, just for your own amusement, you _SHITTY MOTHER FUCKER_!"

Draco narrowed his eyes, his gaze turning lethal as he clutched Harry even tighter; his sharp nails digging severely into his minuo's sides and beginning to pierce through his clothing. Feeling the vampire's grip become harsher, Harry snapped out of his daze, watching anxiously as the scene continued to deteriorate.

"Who said I'd ever do anything _like that_? Why would I harbour any desire to kill him when he's so…_precious_?" asked Draco, his voice vindictively malicious.

Sirius swelled with a torrent of renewed anger at the insinuation, while Remus paled fiercely, his skin appearing sallow, as he looked utterly stricken. Harry remained firmly pressed to Draco's side.

The candles in the corner flickered again, casting long shadows on the walls.

Remus could contain his fears no more, and reached forward to rip Harry from the vampire's grasp. Draco gave a snarl, his fangs descending further. As Harry was jerked away, he blinked at the sudden movement, dazed.

Remus gripped his arms tightly as he spun him round, his tawny gaze ferocious, as he demanded the brunette to face him.

"Harry! Listen to me, you _must _answer me truthfully, understand?"

Harry could only nod dully, his thoughts still bewildered from his sudden removal from Draco and puzzled by Remus's harsh attitude.

"Harry…"he said, a little softer, " has Draco ever done anything to you, has he-has he…ever tried to bite you? Or done anything…inappropriate to you? It's really important that you answer me." Remus's voice was quavering with unknown emotion.

Once his words got through Harry's mind, he stifled the urge to smile mercilessly. How naïve, how worrisome they were being. Had Draco ever done any of those things to him? Of course he had.

What's more…he had _enjoyed_ it.

Harry shivered as he thought of all the things that the silver-eyed vampire had stirred within him.

"Oh…"said Harry softly, "he did a lot more than that…"

Harry was a little disturbed by how much dark pleasure he received from watching the dismayed and appalled expressions on the werewolf's visage. Sirius appeared as if someone had smacked him round the face; he wasn't even looking at Draco anymore.

"What, what did you do to him?" came the hoarse voice that belonged to Sirius.

A much-calmed Draco answered him, "And how is it any of _your_ business mortal?"

The response just seemed to worry Sirius that much more. He glanced towards Remus, whose nose appeared to be twitching slightly. After a few moments he froze, looking, if possible, even more dismayed than he did before.

Sirius took this as a bad sign, and rushed to kneel in front of Harry, desperately putting his hands on either side of his face as to be able to peer into his deep green eyes. Remus had collapsed onto a nearby chair, gaze unfocused as he watched the floor.

Harry was somewhat bemused with the man's sudden appearance in his line of vision from kneeling on the floor.

"Sirius, what are-"

Sirius had pulled up his eyelids, what he was searching for, Harry didn't care to know; it was uncomfortable, and he wriggled, attempting to remove Sirius from his personal space. Seeing Harry struggle, Sirius let go of his eyelids, but pulled his jaw open instead.

At the mishandling, Harry's anger spiked, his eyes glinting, and as one of Sirius's fingers brushed past a canine, his teeth began to ache with an immense frustration that practically made tears gather in the corner of his eyes. With a spitting hiss, Harry wrenched himself back, palms falling gracefully behind him to catch him from falling to the ground.

Silence resounded through the room. Draco stepped smoothly forward, arms swooping down to pull Harry to his feet. Harry's frantic nerves nearly cried out in relief at the contact. The stress of the evening was catching up to him and, perhaps against his better judgement, he allowed himself to snuggle deeper into the vampire's embrace.

From his new position off the floor, Harry was able to feel a little guilt as he saw the completely devastated expression that lay across his godfather's features. Remus was still maintaining his unending vigil of the floorboards, not needing to see what he already knew.

"Oh God," whispered Sirius, he could not believe it. That fucking bastard of a vampire had-had-…had Turned Harry.

"Oh God, how could I have let this happen…"he said brokenly, mostly to himself.

For his part, Harry was more than a little pissed off with how they were taking this. Hadn't he just met them? Who were they to look so horrified?

While Harry had been thinking, Sirius had been rallying his anger again.

"_You_," he spat venomously at Draco, "you fucking _murdered_ him, you fucking shit bastard, I'll _kill you_, I swear it!"

Draco looked unimpressed with the threat, "Of course I didn't kill him, you absolute idiot. Well, technically I suppose, I _was_ the one to end his life, but he was going to die a most painful death at the time anyway. So shut the fuck up and please, dear god, cease with the all of your righteous anger, it's enough to make me vomit."

Sirius also appeared appropriately unimpressed and made a move to start toward him, but was halted by the hand that grabbed his arm, firmly pushing him back to his seat.

"Don't Padfoot, what's done is done, there's no point in revenge anymore. Besides, I don't want to see you ripped to pieces."

Sirius looked to the werewolf with pained eyes, "Moony…"

Harry meanwhile was stewing in his own anger; they behaved as if he was fucking dead! …oh…well, maybe he was, but he was still _there_ damn it!

Sensing his minuo's rising ire with the situation, Draco leaned forward, pushing his lips gently to the back of his neck, teasing the delicate skin near his ear.

"Shhh charmant, they mean well… they just do not understand our _exquisite_ circumstances."

The whispered words felt so wonderful gliding across his skin like that…no, how could they understand? They knew nothing about any of it…

The silence returned, highly emotional, though mainly between the figures of Remus and Sirius. In one man's opinion, it was getting quite ridiculous to allow this to continue, and a curt voice snapped them out of their isolation.

"As…touching as this whole scene _truly_ is, I'm afraid I must interrupt to tell you to get the hell out of my home, Black, Lupin," came the sarcastic drawl of a forgotten potions master.

Sirius looked up, some of his spent fire returning, "Wha- we're not finished yet! I refuse to leave until-"

Surprisingly, it was Remus who interrupted him, "Come on Sirius, it's getting late. We're not going to get anything sorted out tonight. I'm sure we all have _plenty_ to be thinking about. Good bye Harry, I hope you'll visit us sometime in the near future."

And with that, he put a forceful arm on Sirius's shoulder and led him out the door, him still spluttering about "not going anywhere", though it must be said it was a very weak protest.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Harry let out a sigh of relief and let the tension he had held in his shoulders the entire meeting relax, him sinking further against Draco.

* * *

Severus regarded both of them with an uncaring black gaze. The sun would be rising in a few scant hours and he was more affected by the light of the day than Draco was; he wanted this conversation over and done with. Though he would be lying if he said that Draco's little guest wasn't a surprise. He had merely assumed that it was another of the blonde's pets that he was leading around for a while before devouring them and then, as Black wonderfully put, leaving them to die in an alley somewhere. 

The fact that Draco had actually _Turned _someone was …unbelievably odd. Personally, he couldn't see anything particularly special about the little fledgling, but who was he to question Draco's taste, which had always been interesting, to say the least, ever since he had been a child.

Severus sighed to himself. He fervently hoped the brat was at least tolerable; if he was to be a companion to Draco, he had a nasty premonition that he would have to deal with him on a regular basis. But that was for worrying over later, matters of far greater importance required discussion.

Harry meanwhile was beginning to fall asleep in Draco's hold. He had been under so much stress for the last three hours; all the emotions had completely worn him out. He also found that it was taking a lot more effort to breathe, which was vaguely worrying. All thoughts slipped away from him, however, when he finally fell to sleep.

Draco sighed and lifted Harry further into his arms as he became limp with unconsciousness. It was probably best this way; there was no need to worry his little charmant unduly, not with the strain and trauma of his Turning.

"Come Severus, we have much to discuss," said the vampire wearily, moving to a much more comfortably furnished living room.

"So," said Severus as he poured a healthy shot of brandy into a tumbler, "did the loneliness finally corrode your sanity to the point where you had to _make_ yourself some company?"

Draco did not deign to answer, swirling his own glass of Merlot, staring unfocused at the figure of Harry, as he lay unconscious on the sofa.

Severus sighed heavily at the lack of response and turned around to face the blonde, who was leaning on the nearby antique lamp table.

"I presume you know what you're doing? He finally asked, increasingly exasperated at the silence.

It was another moment or so until Draco finally spoke,

"Not really…" he muttered, his stare never wavering.

Severus grit his teeth but dare not speak, it was Draco's own problem after all and he could do whatever he wished, but still…He sighed again, Draco truly was a mysterious character, even to himself.

Draco seemed to snap out of his thoughts, turning to face the other vampire directly.

"I know what to do about Harry, well… enough to be getting on with, though I could use some more blood packets; it is difficult to judge and setting onto blood will be a tenuous experience…"he shook his head lightly, not looking forward to the precarious Hunger of a newly Turned vampire; it was picky at the best of times.

Severus nodded absently, "I'll get a few more form the hospital, come by in two days, they'll be ready. I doubt he will need any proper feeding until then."

Draco hummed in agreement, taking a lazy sip of his wine.

"But that's not all you wish to talk to me about, is it Draco?" said Severus. He knew perfectly well what Draco wished to discuss, but just the mention of it made him uneasy, and clutch his brandy glass a little tighter.

Draco swirled his wineglass at eye level for a few moments, pondering on how to word the upcoming conversation. He had simply suspicions, but that was all that would be required.

He braced himself inwardly for a hard exchange, Severus never did like thinking of the past, neither did he truthfully, but Severus Snape preferred to go on as if it had never happened at all. An odd outlook for a vampire, but perhaps a superior one to the view Draco himself held.

"Severus, on Friday evening I came into contact with a rather…familiar creature." At Severus's piercing stare, he continued, " I'm sure you can recall the Death Eaters, dear serpent."

Severus stiffened, as if suddenly covered with ice. He had feverishly not wished to hear it, but it was, unfortunately, the reality. He let his fingers come to pinch the bridge of his nose, before emptying his glass and then discarding it, in favour of the bottle.

Draco remained relaxed as he perched on the edge of the chaise by a neatly arranged bookshelf. He appeared rather amused at the other man's alcoholic habits.

"Damn it Draco, why did you have to bring this to me, I was perfectly happy _not _knowing," he growled out.

Draco blinked languorously, not at all bothered by Severus's ire. He would not withhold information just for the man's peace of mind.

"I was wondering, if perhaps there were possibly any other…mysterious goings-on that could shed some light on the situation," asked Draco calmly.

"There is no situation Draco, I wouldn't be surprised if after a while, your father just let those spirits run amok, he wasn't the most responsible type of man after all. It was merely painful coincidence one found its way here. _That_ is all."

Draco frowned a little, irritation slowly rising higher.

"I truly thought better of you Severus, I was under the impression that you would at least be rational about such things, no matter how much the past may pain you."

"_You_ are the one not being rational Draco, you are suspicious of everything! Of course your paranoia would rise with that little fledgling hanging about!"

The remark stung more than it should have. Had he not thought of such things only just that afternoon?

Draco's eyes darkened slightly, surveying the other man through thick eyelashes. He would let Severus stew in his own denial for a bit longer, and allow things to have time to sink in.

"I was merely wondering, _Severus_, if you had anything you would like to tell me?" he inquired softly.

The dark vampire seemed to hesitate, before his eyes closed off back into dark tunnels, showing no sentiment whatsoever.

Draco swallowed the remains of his wineglass, savouring the delicate taste on his tongue. He knew it was useless to try to persuade Severus anymore tonight. If anything, Draco knew the value of patience. With so many years to waste away, why rush?

He gave a small nod of acceptance, before setting down the empty remains of his Merlot and moving to pick Harry up from his arrangement on the sofa. He was still slumbering peacefully, and Draco quickly decided to keep it that way.

Moving effortlessly towards the door, charmant in hand and resting his head in the crook of his arm, he gave a final polite nod to Severus.

"I shall return in two nights time then, Severus, I hope it causes you no further trouble."

Severus jerkily twitched his head in acceptance, hearing the unsaid rebuke with ease.

Draco gave a small, sweet smile that seemed both warm and freezing with disdain at the same time; a delightful specialty of his.

It was all the other man needed, to know that Draco was extremely angered with him, and it sent a slight shudder down his spine. Draco had become truly something else during the long years of death.

Severus sighed, and slammed the door shut with a click, before returning to the living room. It had been far too long a night.

* * *

As Draco walked placidly through the town in the early hours of the morning, Harry slept soundly in his embrace. Draco was mulling over his thoughts, staring ahead, grey eyes blurred in thought. 

They walked on for a while, nothing disturbing the morning quiet. The dawn light was only a faint green tinge on the horizon and, as they turned down the last long lane that would take them back to the house, even that disappeared as well.

The trees leant over them as Draco carried Harry along, the boughs rustling in the light winds. It twirled through the air, ruffling both men's hair, and dancing through the leaves.

It was then that Harry started to twitch slightly, his features contorting during his dreams. Draco ignored it at first, but as Harry began to groan and shift in apparent distress, he couldn't help but pause, frowning down at his minuo that lay in his arms. By all accounts, Harry shouldn't be dreaming about anything.

* * *

He heard his feet patter softly against the polished floor. It was dark; he couldn't see anything past the next fluttering curtain and the night brought with it strange sounds and ill-fated footsteps. 

Fear, he was full of it. It was rising through his chest, hammering hard and pulsing with the beat of his heart. Where was she? He wanted her; he wanted to see her so badly!

A soft -clink- in the background, from around the corner, something falling to the ground. He stopped, he couldn't move for terror. Panic rose, he couldn't breathe. He mustered the courage to turn, -nothing was there, save for the fluttering curtains.

It just made his fear climb higher, he couldn't move, what if it came for him? What would he-

A step. A step against the wooden floorboards. Fear, overwhelming fear and terror, his blood seemed to flood with it, sending it straight to his lungs, his head, and back to his heart. He was- he was- going to…die…?

No, no! He was going to run! Run, and never stop running, from the fear, from pain, from death, just like she told him to.

He felt vigour rush through him, he stumbled to move, but his knees hit the ground, pressure was on his back, pushing him forwards-

No! He had…to run…Run away!

Pain sliced through his back, though no blood fell; there was no warm wetness sliding down his back. Tears fell to the floor in droplets; he pushed away, rising to his feet, if only he could escape, he stumbled forwards a few steps before he could run, the pain in his back throbbed ferociously-

"Harry!"

The sharp voice broke him from his dreams, forcing his eyes to slam open. Harry blinked confused, looking up into Draco's face.

"You were having…nightmares."

Harry heard his breathe whistling harshly between his lips, and vainly tried to calm it. He brought a trembling hand to his face, and was bemused to find tears on his fingers when he drew it away. He watched as he let them slide off his skin and onto the paved lane below.

"I-…I don't understand" he said softly.

Draco clutched him tighter to himself,

"Neither do I," he said lowly, his words being taken away by the wind as it rustled around them once more.

* * *

**A/N:Harry's backstory may be over (mostly- can't tell you the rest...its a secret! guess correctly and i'll give you a dedication), but Draco's is vastly different. In fact, i'll probably do a chapter, maybe two, of just that, from Draco's view. So fun! Sorry 'bout the really bad qaulity, wrote it late last night when brain was far far away, if you have any questions just ask, and oh! _Please review_, if you don't i'll cry! And that ain't pretty, not at all :(**


	14. As sweet as red tea

Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Hey, miss me? Happy start of advent! Can't quite believe I got this out, but I guess the internet being down has it's uses eh? I just want to thank everyone for all their reviews and I hope you like this chapter. Btw, when typing the 'tea party', I know its not really that funny, but I just _couldn't _stop laughing. Dunno why...Guess i'm just a spaz :P**

Warnings: Lots of blood play...you know you like it.

* * *

**As sweet as red tea**

Draco had mysteriously disappeared.

Again.

As soon as Draco had finished carrying him back to the house, to which Harry had made several strident protests but was promptly ignored, Draco had simply put him gently back on his feet and…faded away.

It was starting to become really annoying when the blonde did that, Harry decided.

He was currently slogging his way up the winding stairs back to his room in the tower, which he felt belonged to a lifetime ago.

In fact, it pretty much was, he thought wryly, musing on how his footsteps made not a sound s they hit upon the stone stairs.

When he finally reached the top and pushed open the door, Harry was feeling the strain of his long evening return to him with a vengeance. He truly wished for nothing more than to collapse on the bed, no matter how uncomfortable it may be, and fall asleep.

It was unfortunate that he would be unable to so.

With a groan of pure frustration, he slid his bag towards him where it had nestled under the rusting bed frame. He wrinkled his nose as he caught the smell of damp fabric, aggravated by the slight scent of mould.

He carefully unzipped it to inspect the contents. The glint of specialised equipment and the slight click of metal merely caused him to stare. He had completely forgotten the circumstances of why he had come to this town in Wiltshire in the first place.

Vague memories of a worried woman's face with bushy brown hair, and of an old man of indisputable insanity. They all seemed…fuzzy somehow, as if he were viewing them through a steamy window.

He tried to focus on them; to bring them into sharper clarity, yet found that he could not, no matter how hard he attempted to do so. Harry frowned, a little disturbed with the notion; was it possible that in time, he would forget all his friends from his previous life all together?

…

And when had he thought of them as _previous_?!

Harry closed his eyes in sheer exhaustion, his body suddenly feeling incredibly lethargic, and painfully achy. He rolled his shoulders back with a click and let himself fall backwards so that he was sprawled haphazardly over slightly moth eaten bed covers, his eyes sliding softly shut.

* * *

Several miles away, in a squashed parlour full of chipped chintz furniture and where it was quite impossible to distinguish the wallpaper from the overly flowery carpet, sat Neville Longbottom having early morning tea with Albus Dumbledore. 

"Would you like a sherbet lemon?"

Suffice to say, Neville was feeling a little uncomfortable.

And it wasn't all to do with the company, amazingly enough.

"Now, now Neville, they're wonderfully good…"

Though it wasn't the far too small armchair he was fitted into either.

Neville let out a small strangled sound of apology and sipped his tea, not bothering to sweeten it with the rather suspect looking sugar cubes lying innocently on the coffee table. A coffee table, incidentally, so high it was practically digging into his kneecaps.

Dumbledore seemed to have lost himself for the moment, idly stirring his own teacup with one of his various ornamental silver spoons. He continued in this vain for several minutes, before lifting said cup just enough to allow him to peer over its brim to survey Neville in the proper manner.

The gardener squirmed behind his own teacup, fixing his gaze firmly to the sugar bowl.

"Well now Neville," he said, after finally completing his inspection, seemingly satisfied, "I'm sure you're wondering why you're here?"

The boy merely nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth, considering he was wondering that same question himself, though perhaps not in the exact same way that Dumbledore did.

"Well, you checked in on dear Mr.Potter last week didn't you? Yes…I remember that."

Neville was again completely silent, though his flushed cheeks and tight jaw spoke volumes. Not that Dumbledore seemed to notice.

"It is quite extraordinary that he was alive wasn't it…?"

Neville made another strangled sound from somewhere in his throat and had to briefly close his eyes. Glancing at Dumbledore's wondering expression, he quickly busied himself with his tea once again.

"Yes, he seemed perfectly fine, sir," mumbled Neville eventually, when it became clear that the man would require prompting.

"Well, he is there on a very important mission Neville, very important indeed…unfortunately we have not heard from him in over a week now, and I'm afraid we may need to start worrying over the poor boy's fate…"

This time Neville truly did have to bite his tongue down forcefully. An important mission his hat! However, he couldn't but worry about Mr.Potter himself. No one had ever survived this long a time, and the young man's rather ominous silence was most likely a result of…well, best not to think about it.

"But, he may be perfectly fine," exclaimed Dumbledore suddenly, blue eyes twinkling, "so, I need _you_, Neville to go back and check on him for me once again!"

Neville groaned inwardly to himself.

There goes not thinking about it.

* * *

Harry awoke unpleasantly. He had opened his eyes to find streams of mid-morning sunshine glaring through the window, which had caused a searing pain to shoot through his eyes, to his brain and back again before settling menacingly in his forehead. 

Letting out a harsh groan he had rolled himself out of his contorted position on the bed and half shuffled, half crawled out the door.

Harry didn't think he had ever been more grateful for the presence of a dark stone stairwell in his life.

Resting his head against the wall, Harry was made acutely aware of another pain, this one perhaps worse than that of his eyes.

His entire jaw ached painfully, like someone had hit it repeatedly with particularly large hammer. The ache extended to all of his teeth too, but was predominantly worse in his canines, which felt akin to plenty of tiny needles being lodged into his mouth.

Harry let out a restrained cry as he ran a tentative hand along his jaw line. He tried to grit his teeth against the sting, but only managed to make tears well in his eyes as the ache became even more unbearable.

"Ow…"whimpered Harry pitifully, staring morosely at the stone steps beneath him; it really, _really_ hurt.

Deciding to try to find Draco, who could hopefully do something to relieve the pain, he pushed himself up and set about stumbling down the stairs to the rest of the house.

* * *

Leaves crunched loudly under his feet, worn boots slipping a little on the thawing frost as they slapped against the gravel path. 

"Okay Neville, you can do this…there is absolutely _nothing_ to be afraid of, you are _not _going in there to be eaten by flesh eating monsters, and you most certainly _aren't_ going to find the lifeless corpse of Mr.Potter…"

Neville paused in his treck towards the front doors.

"Oh hell, what on earth am I doing?!"

With an internal wail of distress, Neville finally made it to the decrepit entranceway. With only a glance up to the portentous mansion, he slid through the doorway, fervently wishing to be anywhere but here.

Walking hesitantly through the muddy entrance hall, he couldn't help but start when a wood pigeon cooed from overhead, his eyes flashing wide as spun around.

He paused in his panic when he realised it was only a bird, and not anything worse.

Sighing with relief, he almost choked as he heard a voice call from behind him.

"Neville?"

Whipping around, ready to defend himself from all manner of vicious Neville-eating beasts, he blinked when he recognised it was only Harry.

"Mr.Potter," he said weakly, wheezing slightly, "you startled me…"

He trailed off as he took a closer look at the man. He was a little shocked to see how pale he had gotten; he looked more than a little ill. His eyes were darker as well, and his clothes ruffled and wrinkled all over. Neville briefly wondered where his glasses were.

"Are you…alright Mr.Potter sir? You don't look all that well…"

Harry was more than a little bemused, seeing Neville just standing there. He had been unsuccessfully trying to find Draco's study when the boy had just…appeared. That, or Harry just hadn't been paying too much attention to his surroundings, so he hadn't heard the boy come in.

Seeing Neville staring at him curiously, Harry dazedly answered, trying his best to ignore the pain in his mouth, which had just decided to throb away even more ferociously; he could practically feel the blood pulsing through his teeth.

"Oh, I'm-I'm just fine Neville, just a little tired is all…um, do you mind telling me,er, why you're here?" he asked confusedly, the ache in his canines was becoming particularly unpleasant at the moment, and was incredibly distracting.

"Oh!" Neville blustered, "Mr.Dumbledore sent me to check on you again, as well, no one had heard from you and we were beginning to think that maybe…"

Seeing the rather vacant stare from dark green eyes, Neville began to twitch uncomfortably. There was something very wrong with Mr.Potter, he hadn't blinked a single time, and there was…_something_ in that gaze that was…oddly _different_.

Neville cleared his throat nervously, "I'll just, ah, go then, I mean, you're here, fine, alive, ah! I mean- well anyway, I'll, er, um, see you around Mr.Potter sir!"

And with that he rushed out of the house as fast as humanly possible, feeling distinctly unsettled.

It may be an awful thing to say but…just _how_ was that man still alive?

The wind blew; ripping it's way through Neville's overcoat, and making him shiver. Frankly, it was just another thing that he had no desire to think about.

* * *

As soon as Neville had made his hasty exeunt, Harry gave in and grasped his head in his hands. It hurt…so much. He couldn't even bite his lip or anything, and it was only getting worse. 

During his conversation with Neville he had almost thought that his teeth were going to fall out, they ached so badly.

He had to find Draco. Now.

Why the fuck did that vampire have to keep disappearing all of the time!

Harry only managed to stagger down a few more corridors, before another whimper of pain left him and he collapsed to the floor, head in hands and leaning heavily against the wall.

The tears he had been holding back finally fell, trailing down his face and running off his chin. Why wouldn't it stop? He _just_ wanted it to stop…

He bit back a cry as the throb in his teeth and jaw intensified sharply, rocking his head back and forth in a futile attempt to relieve some of the pain.

It wasn't until the pressure started, however, that Harry truly screamed. Nails digging viciously into his skin, he sobbed as a large amount of pressure built up in the back of his mouth, causing the pain to increase even further.

He couldn't stand it, he just couldn't _stand_ it, make it _**stop**_!

He hissed slightly as he felt another presence appear beside him. Draco hushed him gently as he wrapped his arms around him, unfazed when Harry tried to shrink away.

"Shhh… it'll be over soon, and then it will be all gone," he whispered softly, his breath ghosting lightly over his ear.

Harry couldn't help but be a little soothed by the vampire's ministrations, leaning into his touch, even as he felt something _snap_ painfully in his jaw.

He felt wetness in his mouth and gave a sniffled whimper as blood dripped from his lips. He tensed and quivered as there was another breaking 'snap' among his teeth. He felt something hard upon his tongue, and promptly spat it out, along with a mouthful of his own blood.

As he stared at the objects, as they lay bloodied on the floor, he numbly recognised them as his own teeth; his upper canines.

Draco gently brushed some dark hair out of his eyes and pulled him back into an embrace against the wall, Harry being settled snugly in between his legs.

The pain had dulled to a merely an aching twinge in his jaw, so Harry let his head flop onto the chest behind him, exhaustion and Draco's fingers carding through his hair lulling him to sleep.

Draco released a sigh as he sensed his charmant fall asleep in his arms. Tightening his embrace slightly he pushed to stand with ease, Harry still nestled securely in his arms.

As he set off for his study, he mused on how this situation, him carrying his little minuo seemingly everywhere, appeared to happen quite often. The thought briefly amused him, but his thoughts flitted past it quickly.

He was rather regretful, possibly even a little guilty, that he had not been there for most of Harry's distress. Growing ones fangs was not exactly pleasant, and as his charmant's sire, regardless of their relationship, he should have been there anyway.

Not that his own sire had been there for him, but that wasn't exactly the point.

That thought passed rapidly as well though; he wouldn't have been able to do a thing about the process, or the pain, anyway.

He sighed again, this time with a bit more frustration, and surveyed Harry through his lashes.

Harry had drying blood trailing from his lips, and the pearly tips of fangs were distinctly visible, descending from his mouth.

Continuing his observation, Draco growled a little when he noticed how pallid Harry had gotten. It wasn't the usual healthy pale complexion of a vampire, but instead was nearly ashen, making him appear slightly sickly.

It was obvious that his little lovely would need to feed sooner than he had expected.

Opening the door to his destination, while still holding onto Harry with both hands, he didn't break stride until he reached the heavily cushioned sofa, gently placing Harry down and propping his head with a nearby pillow.

Draco tilted his head at the picture; Harry lying in a beautifully tragic pose, and appearing more alluring than Draco had ever thought imaginable.

The sight of blood trailing, as if he had just fed, and newly thickened eyelashes curling against pale cheeks.

Draco let his gaze fall hazy, the delicious mix of innocence and iniquity making heat coil deep within him.

With yet another sigh, this one sounding mostly of suffering, the vampire quickly lay down as well, curling around the sleeping man, wriggling slightly for the greatest comfort.

Happily burying his nose in his charmant's neck, he contentedly awaited for when Harry would wake.

* * *

Even though he was now awake, Harry kept his eyes shut, attempting to simply doze off again. He was so warm here, and comfortable; he was quite sure he never wanted to move ever again. It was…just…so…peaceful… 

A rumbling laugh from his blanket, however, had him peering blearily awake, irritated with the disruption.

Not seeing anything unusual as he gazed at the ceiling, Harry slowly turned his head to the side, immediately meeting a pair of amused grey eyes.

Oh. Suddenly the weight of an arm around his waist made a lot more sense.

…

When had he simply come to accept Draco's molesting? He couldn't seem to quite remember.

Oh well, didn't matter really, as long as he got to go back to sleep again. Yes…sleep…

"Ah ah ah, Harry, no going back to sleep."

Fuck him.

Not at all fazed by the rather vicious glare that his darling charmant was giving him, Draco simply indulged in nuzzling Harry's neck once more.

"Listen, I know you're tired from before," he paused as Harry winced slightly in remembrance, "but the real reason you want to sleep so much is because you're going to start needing to feed."

It took a few moments for that to trickle through Harry's drowsy mind. When it did, he paled even more.

"What-…what happened to me?" he asked softly.

Draco sighed; he really hoped Harry wouldn't get all delicate over this.

"You're fangs finally grew through, replacing your, rather defunct if I may say so, old ones. It's the sign that you have to start feeding on blood. You're still not completely Turned though; you only require a small amount at the moment, and other more…subtle abilities have still yet to appear."

"Oh…" Harry whispered, keeping his eyes fixed on one of the more decorative cushions lodged behind Draco's shoulder.

"You can't survive without blood, lovely, which is why you feel even more lethargic than you really should."

Harry nodded slightly, his mind in a mess. It wasn't the blood that made him hesitant, strangely enough. Surely as a vampire, it would taste nicer than it normally did…but he wasn't sure how he felt about having to kill for it either, it seemed sort of drastic truthfully.

Harry licked his lips, "It has to be human blood?"

Draco blinked lazily before replying, "Yes, animal blood is more of an… acquired taste, and is impossible to properly survive on."

"Oh…"

Draco let himself smile softly as he heard that quiet little word again.

"But," Draco continued, "for now my own blood will do for you, not as…nutritious perhaps, but perfectly fit for your consumption."

He was smirking by the end, and Harry was annoyed to feel a blush rise onto his cheeks.

Feeding from Draco, that wasn't so bad, right? Wouldn't be hurting anyone, and he was well aware of how…pleasurable it could be.

Which, actually, just left him feeling really awkward.

He squirmed a little, trying to get more comfortable in his precarious position on the sofa and resolutely refused to meet the Draco's eyes. It was obvious that the vampire expected him to feed _now_, but…but what the fuck was he meant to do?!

Draco couldn't help but laugh faintly as he saw how wonderfully shy his little charmant was being. He gently cupped Harry's chin with slender fingers, lifting his head so their eyes could meet. The blush dusted across his minuo's face was really quite endearing.

"Now, now Harry, don't get all nervous on me. Just go with what is _comfortable_," he purred.

Harry was not entirely reassured by the vampire's low, sultry tone, but had the creeping feeling that the man was merely attempting to agitate him. Harry would feel a lot more satisfied about this discovery, if only it wasn't flustering him quiteso _well_.

With a slight huff, Harry determinedly ignored the heat on his face and tilted himself a bit further round so he was snuggled right into Draco's chest, his head resting on the man's collarbone.

Breathing in deeply, Harry couldn't help but notice that Draco smelled really, _really_ good. As he moved to nuzzle his neck, the brunette could sense the lazy pulse of blood just under the surface of pale, smooth skin. He gave a breathy sigh; it was intoxicating.

Suddenly feeling rather heady, Harry let his tongue slip from parted lips of it's own accord, licking up all the way to the blonde's ear. Draco tasted really fine as well…

The vampire himself was failing to keep composure, and when he felt that pink little tongue make its way up his neck, he couldn't help groaning from the sensation.

Fucking hell, he wished Harry would just sink his fangs into him already!

Fortunately, Harry did just that. Feeling an odd sensation flow through his jaw and dart down his fangs, he was consumed with the irresistible urge to bite down on the soft flesh below him.

With a moan of satisfaction, he felt his extended canines pierce Draco's skin and something pleasantly warm and wet flood his mouth.

When the first proper taste of blood hit his tongue, he couldn't help but whimper. It was thick, rich, still held that slight metallic taste and had the same effect as strong alcohol.

It seemed to taunt every single taste bud with its diversity, and he knew that he would never survive again without it. There was also, on top of everything else, something that Harry could clearly recognise; it was the bittersweet tang that made it taste of sex, which he also knew instinctively would only taste so sweet when from his sire.

He let his tongue massage the skin in his mouth lightly; drawing the blood out leisurely, and performing little convulse swallows. He felt a slim hand curl up through his hair, making him mewl slightly as he was gently pushed closer to Draco's neck.

"There's a good boy…" purred Draco silkily, eyes smoky with pleasure as his charmant continued to suckle on his neck.

It was only a few minutes until Harry softly pulled back, the blood losing a little of it's addictive flavour as his thirst was assuaged. He licked a little at the wound on Draco's alabaster skin, coming to his senses and blushing heavily, slightly amazed with what he had just done.

"There we go," said Draco as he rolled his head, giving a contented groan as he felt it click, "feeling better now?"

The self-satisfied smirk was back. Again.

Harry merely curled up and buried his head in the nearest plush cushion in response.

* * *

**A/N: Feed back welcome, read and review! Next chapter will contain...stuff, I guess. **


	15. Silver Bullets

Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

**AHH, SORRY FOR THE REPOST, BUT IT HAD SOME ERRORS ON IT, THAT I JUST HAD TO FIX, SORRY!!!**

**A/N: Woah, this one just kept going! Well, thank you all for your lovely reviews, I enjoy them ever so much, I think some people are starting to see why this is rated M :) It isn't my intetion to weird anyone out, I just want stuff to feel real, is all. **

**Anyway, BIG IMPORTANT QUESTION! ffdotnet can be a bit odd when it comes to 'inappropriate content', ehm, and I really don't wanna be taken off. Now, Harry and Draco WILL be having sex at some point (...so...hot...nugh...), but I'm just not sure how much my lovely readers are gonna see of it. :( dilemna! So, I've decided to let YOU decide, and then put a warning in the chapter and hope noone complains, you no like, you no read! and all that. So yes, please inform me how steamy you want me to go...hehehe...:P**

Warnings: A bit...gore-y, I seriously don't know why I keep doing this, it'll stop, really it will, to be replaced by hot boyxboy action, I proomisssseee!!!

* * *

**Silver Bullets**

The middle of the night usually lent itself to shadows, and that particular evening was no different. The hallways were as silent as they had ever been, with the only illumination coming from the occasional candle or from the moonlight streaming through the intermittent windows.

Draco's footfalls made not a single sound as he stalked swiftly through the corridors, the low light moulding around his features as he walked.

As he turned a final corner, he came into sight of his destination.

The library? How interesting.

His hunt came to a close as he slid without a sound through the slightly ajar doorway, and saw his minuo seated at one of the smaller tables, a book in hand, hunched over his chair.

Unable to resist temptation, Draco silently came up behind him, resting his chin on crossed hands and peering over the other man's shoulder.

Realising that Harry had still not realised his presence, he leaned a little further forward, glancing at Harry through the corners of his eyes.

"Are you avoiding me, Harry?"

Harry jerked forward in surprise, spluttering slightly as the book he had been holding toppled down onto the tabletop haphazardly.

Feeling a blush spread over his cheeks, _again_, Harry twisted around, still shocked at the vampire's abrupt appearance.

"Draco! When the fuck did you get there?!" he demanded.

"Oh, me? I've been reading over your shoulder for about five minutes now, I'm surprised you didn't notice," said Draco dispassionately.

After blinking a few times, Harry simply reached for his book again in response, using it as a distraction from his small, choked noise of surprise. There was no _way_ Draco could have been there for that long…

Seeing Harry steadfastly return to his reading, Draco raised an eyebrow in question, wondering what could be ever so interesting.

Walking smoothly round the table, Draco leaned over and pushed down the book that was covering Harry's face gently, but firmly, with two slender fingers.

Realising his reading material was disappearing from his line of sight; Harry finally gave up on ignoring the blonde and just let it clatter back to the table, sitting back in his seat with a sigh.

"Ah, so you _were_ avoiding me then?"

Harry didn't reply, he merely bit his lip and glanced away to one of the various towering bookcases. It really was an enormous library.

He had found it while he had been aimlessly wandering the corridors, after he had slipped out of Draco's study a just few hours before. His face had completely refused to cool down, despite being hidden behind a pillow, and he had promptly tried to escape as soon as possible. He had eventually stumbled across yet another pair of irresistibly curios double doors, and had been surprised to find one of the largest collections of books he had ever seen.

His first thought of, 'that's a lot of books', had quickly given way to an odd sort of excitement. He had skimmed past the various bookshelves, a little disappointed to find nothing of any real interest, until his gaze had landed on titles that seemed a bit more…unnatural.

Few of the books themselves had any title, but whoever had organised them had done so with a great amount of care, labelling sections in thin, slanted handwriting, within categories such as,_ potions, werewolves _or the mysteriously named _silver._

Letting his fingers trail along the spines, he had randomly pulled a book from the shelf and sat down to read. What had started as something to distract himself from thinking had quickly turned into something really very interesting.

He had almost completely forgotten about Draco.

Almost.

He was jolted from his thoughts as he felt a tinkling breath ghost over his ear.

"Now, now darling, no need to look so morose, I'm not such bad company, am I?"

Harry couldn't help but shiver as Draco's low, silky voice brushed against his skin. Why was Draco always so…distracting?

Smirking at his charmant's reaction, Draco let his arms gently fall around Harry's waist, leaning in gracefully to place a kiss on the juncture between jaw and neck, nibbling a little on the ear, before slowly pulling away again.

Harry couldn't prevent the shiver than ran through his frame as Draco moved away, just brushing against the material of his shirt.

"Now then," inquired Draco softly, "what was it that you found so enthralling, hmm?"

Harry jerked back to reality as he saw Draco spin the book cover about, as to see properly the title.

The vampire merely stared at it intently for a moment, before glancing back to Harry, a gentle smirk lilting his features.

"Ah, I see," he said lowly, his silver hair shadowing his face.

Harry blushed, angry and strangely embarrassed at the same time. Why the hell did Draco have to put it like that?

"Stop making it like I've been doing something incongruously dirty, you stupid vampire!" he demanded, standing from his chair and leaning over the table.

Draco merely chuckled in the back of his throat, before stepping back and allowing the light to bathe his features once again. His grey eyes were glinting with malicious amusement at the red that was dusting his minuo's cheeks, ever so prettily.

"You are far too fun to play with _darling_, you have the most amusing reaction's to things." He levelled Harry with an unreadable glance, "You also seem to have _quite_ the imagination as well…"

Harry glared in reply, and let himself slowly fall back into his seat, determined not to let the blondes _odd _ways irritate him any further.

He felt all his ire melt away as his gaze fell to the book laying innocuously on the table. He reached out with his fingers and let them delicately glide over the leather cover.

He suddenly realised how pale his skin was, in contrast to the dark swathe. He let his hand fall limply back to his side.

Draco observed with hooded eyes, having moved to haunt the sill of the nearby window; it was small and rectangular, with small diamond panes and the wood a deep burgundy.

Glancing outside he saw that it was a clear night, but the wind had stirred to nearly a gale, whistling through any cracks or broken windows and causing the candles to sputter.

Harry stared at his pale hands that were lying in his lap, leaning back fully in his chair, his dark green eyes glazed over in thought.

It took him a few moments to realise, once again, that he wasn't breathing, and that there was not a single movement from his chest. He frowned slightly, still gazing fixedly at his twisting fingers.

Silky black locks of hair fell forward, framing his face and caressing his skin gently. He wet his lips with his tongue, suddenly feeling them to be very dry, as his entire frame tensed.

"Draco…"he whispered timidly, "what is going to happen to me… What is it that I shall become?"

Though soft, the question cut through the silence flawlessly, even above the slight rattle of the glass as the wind twisted past the walls once more.

Draco surveyed Harry with dark eyes, his face impassive.

"You shall stay with me," he said seriously, "and that is that."

Strangely enough, the ambiguous answer didn't trouble him.

"Right…" Harry spoke softly to himself, feeling inexplicably lighter for reasons he couldn't quite fathom.

"Right…" he repeated once more just as gently.

"You really shouldn't think about those sort of things though," said Draco casually, as he started to saunter from his perch on the windowsill, "you'll just end up hurting yourself."

And with that, the vampire pushed Harry's head with two slender fingers as he walked right past and out the door, leaving Harry to rub absently at his forehead while groping for his dropped book with the other.

Harry was beginning to get the suspicion that Draco just might be bi-polar.

It would certainly explain a lot of things.

He fingered the spine of his book, briefly contemplating whether or not to continue reading. He bit his lip in indecision and let out a hiss of pain. He drew up a palm to his lip and was taken aback to find blood sliding down his fingers.

He ran his tongue absently over his teeth, and was rewarded with the taste of his own blood from one of his fangs.

Oh.

He looked to the small paned window, it reflected the room from the candlelight; he could distinguish the bookcases, the table, the chair and… an indistinct blur where he should have been.

He glanced back to his bloody fingers; it was enthralling to watch the thick liquid slowly roll down over his skin, he found that he couldn't look away.

Before he was even aware of what he was doing he had leant forward and was running his tongue along them, licking the blood from his fingers with a sort perverse focus.

Once he had finished, his eyes went wide as he suddenly realised _just_ what he had done.

Fuck.

He slumped into the back of his chair, and put a slightly trembling hand to his face and then ran it through his hair. He carelessly noticed that the tresses fell gracefully back into place.

There was nothing…_wrong_ with what he had just done, but…Shit, he hadn't even noticed what the fuck he had been doing! He'd had no control at all!

With an aggravated growl, he roughly pushed himself from his chair and swiftly made his way over to the cases, skimming over entire shelves until he reached a group of books neatly labelled in that peculiar slanted handwriting, _vampires. _

He cautiously reached out, fighting an inexplicable urge that he was doing something dreadfully erroneous.

He pushed such irrational thoughts away, but only pulled one down nonetheless; he couldn't keep relying on Draco's sporadic little pieces of information. It would have been nice, _for example_, if the bastard of a vampire had at least _warned_ him about the whole growing his own fangs thing.

He sighed, while vaguely wondering just what Draco could actually do. What _he _essentially could do.

He frowned as what felt like a million questions that he had stored away for the past couple of days screamed to the forefront. He frowned slightly; it wouldn't do to be completely unprepared for what was happening to him, now would it?

With that thought in mind, but still feeling irrationally surreptitious, he settled himself down on a couch, below one of the larger windows, curling up to the end.

He had reading to do.

* * *

Meanwhile, Draco had his own business to attend to. He silently slid through the shadows to his study, the unease he had pushed away earlier returning. 

He steeped out from a corner and as he strode past his desk, allowed himself a slight glance to the thin silver sword that was lying on the leather.

He sighed and looked away; why did everything have to be so complicated?

The sword wasn't the only object that was giving him cause for thought; the white, cracked mask lay not too far away either.

Draco went to one of the glass-door cabinets, removing a rather thick tome with care. He placed it on his desk and wasted no time flicking through the pages, lithe fingers tracing faded words.

He finally stopped about halfway through, the book itself seemed to be a set text, but the previous owner had scribbled various comments in the margins, and had even written an entire paragraph at the bottom in miniscule characters.

Grey eyes skimmed over the transcript, growing to a dark silver by the end of the passage.

Draco slammed the ancient book closed with a snarl. He pushed it away from him and let himself fall back into his armchair, resting his head on a clenched fist, his fangs piercing his lower lip.

He couldn't completely contain the hissing growl that issued from between his teeth.

He had hoped that perhaps…ka, it didn't matter anymore. The blonde closed his eyes and sighed deeply, distantly aware of his bleeding lip. He rose, and quickly slid through the shadows again.

He had people to see.

* * *

Harry huffed and continued to stare forlornly out the window. He had finished reading, well, he finished reading as much as he really wanted to at the moment, and he was growing distinctly, well, bored. 

It was an odd sensation, considering he hadn't experienced it in quite a while, and he was therefore at a bit at a loss with what to do with himself.

He had read as far as what the book had detailed on Turning (which was minimal) and he just couldn't bring himself to continue to read on any further.

He was feeling…restless, and it was becoming a pain attempting to keep still. He felt as if he had far too much energy, and it was just itching to have a release.

Thus leading to the staring out the window with the despondent expression.

Harry sighed to himself.

The last time he had been outside by himself at night, some sort of possessed spirit-mask had attacked him and he had managed to kill himself by rusty impalement.

No wonder he was just a _tad_ nervous about journeying outside without Draco by his side. And Draco wasn't here.

But…

At the same time, he really, _really_, wanted to go outside.

Harry groaned and let his head fall against the glass with a satisfying thud. Great, now he sounded like a whining child from the age of five.

Despite that though, he truly did feel as if he was going to go insane with just standing there; he _needed _to do something!

Where the fuck had Draco disappeared off to anyway? It really was getting incredibly frustrating.

Harry suddenly had the oddest feeling; as if a stray thought was ghosting through his mind, just touching his awareness, leaving the overwhelming thought that, _Draco isn't here._ He didn't know where it had come from, but he was sure that it was undeniably true, like an instinct.

Harry huddled his arms about himself as the wind blew through the halls once again, sending the candles guttering out.

It was a strange sensation, Harry decided, being able to see in perfect clarity when he knew there was no light source to see by.

Feeling oddly vulnerable staying inside the house, he strode purposefully through the dim corridors down to the entrance hall, and then, with only a slight pause of hesitance, right out the front door and beyond.

The night sky was like velvet, and the world was cast in a slight purple hue, with only the wind rustling gently along the ground.

Harry scowled at his own cowardice. He was getting all agitated about practically nothing.

He briefly wondered, as he made his way off the grounds and onto the paved road, if Draco would be angry with him for leaving without informing him, but just as quickly pushed it aside.

No matter what happened to him, he was still his own person, and he still had the same freedoms as he had merely days before, when he and come and gone, completely by his own compulsion.

He continued to walk silently down the lane, the boughs of trees hanging vigilantly above him.

The wind danced across his face, mussing his hair and sending a tingle through the scar on his forehead.

Harry absently wondered where he was going, into town obviously, but was there any real reason to do so?

He sighed, and decided that at the moment that he just didn't care.

Just walk and think.

* * *

It was 3 o'clock in the morning when the bar door opened and closed for the last time that night, or rather, morning. 

A woman dressed in far too high stilettos and swathed in a large grey overcoat stumbled out, her hells catching slightly on the latch and causing her to skid down onto the pavement.

Sighing with exasperation, she straightened up and turned back to bolt the door, making sure to secure the catch.

Once satisfied that she was all locked up for the night, Miss Tracey Davis huddled further into her coat and set off down the street, head bowed low as she made her way home.

Working behind a bar hadn't exactly been her first choice in the job market, with little pay and having to deal with ever more sleazy patrons. But, it served her purpose; funding her future exploits.

She huffed to herself as her shoes clicked rhythmically against the pavement, thinking longingly for the bed and the accompanying sleep that awaited her once she got back to her flat.

Little did Miss Tracey Davis know, that she would never reach her front door.

She suddenly broke stride, coming to a halt as she felt eyes watching her.

Feeling an inexplicable fear race up her spine, she slowly turned her head, just a little to the left.

The alleyway was dark; the streetlamps above her head not reaching the dim passageway and leaving it full of shadows.

Her breath blew out in a billowing cloud of white in front of her face, _when had it got so cold? _And as she heard something shift in the darkness, she managed to move a step back, stilettos clacking slightly.

At the same time, the streetlamp above her head buzzed a little as it started to flicker.

Her pulse started to quicken as she began to panic, she just had to move, run around the corner, just another couple of roads, then straight down Blackwaters street, round another corner and she'd be home.

Not that far.

Not that far at all.

The streetlight flashed and then went out.

* * *

"AHH-!" 

Harry's head lifted as he heard the cut off cry. It sounded like a woman and, judging from the slight ringing in his ears, it was from close by as well.

He hesitated for a moment, rocking back on the balls of his feet only fleetingly, before walking, and then jogging in the direction from where he had heard the woman's cry.

He wasn't sure whether it was from a desire to help, or from a fresh sort of gruesome curiosity, but he was going regardless.

As Harry came across the scene, he fervently wished that he hadn't.

He had ended up skidding to a halt outside an alleyway, his sensitive hearing making it effortless to locate the source.

It wasn't until he paused that he had smelt the blood. Harry vaguely wondered how he could have possibly missed it; the fragrance practically perfumed the air with fruity wine and sharp aftertaste.

He briefly felt his jaw ache. He paid it no heed, however, too transfixed with the sight before him; it was far more abhorrent than a vampire.

A woman was lying limply in the clutches of what appeared to be pure shadow, absorbing the light around it to make a dark vacuum, devoid of any light at all.

It was the mask though, that drew Harry's attention; it was the same as the one that had hunted him only a few nights before, a red glow, glinting where eyes should have been.

The disgust came from the state of the woman, it appeared as if something had literally tore into her flesh by shear force alone, the shadow surrounding her seeming to draw in through the wound on her side, crimson seeping heavily through her grey overcoat.

Harry could tell she was still alive, though not for that much longer; he could hear her frenzied heartbeats begin to dwindle and fade.

Staring, he saw her eyes go glassy, and her life was snuffed out.

He continued to watch, unable to tear his gaze away, as the creature dropped her to the ground, like a slab of meat, her glazed eyes staring wide at the sky.

Harry's stomach roiled in revulsion, but he was unable to become properly nauseas. He wished he could; he was sure he would feel better if he would just throw up.

He was jerked from his shock, however, when he saw the shadow move from his peripheral vision. It seemed that Harry had taken the position of next victim.

_Fuck._

Wasn't once enough!?

Faster than a human could ever hope to follow, the wraith lunged forward, intent on capturing it's prey.

With an unnatural speed, Harry managed to spin away, though caught off balance by the sudden movement, sending him stumbling back.

Fortunately, the creature seemed to have entangled itself on the lamppost behind him, leaving him a second or two to flee.

Harry wasted no time; he spun around, awkwardly faltering slightly on the pavement, and sprinted as fast as possible round the corner.

_Fuck._

He couldn't believe that this was happening, _again!_ And this time, Draco was most _definitely_ nowhere to be seen, and he had absolutely no idea what the fuck to do, or where the hell to go.

_Shit._

As Harry's feet pounded hard against the pavement, he made not a single sound; it did not aid him though, as he knew the spirit was merely inches behind him; the creeping chill was evidence enough for that.

Shit, why was that thing chasing him to begin with, he wasn't alive anymore! He didn't have anything left to give!

He stumbled as he felt something reach out with leaching fingers, trying to tear into the prone form of his back.

He fell, and rolled to the side, the uneven surface of the ground below him leaving deep gouaches in his hands, and then slammed harshly up against a brick wall, sending pain shooting through his ribs; he distantly thought he heard something crack.

He ignored it best he could, only then belatedly realising that he had been caught in a dead end. Cursing his luck to hell and back, he attempting to crawl backwards, but was halted as the crushing pain flared in his chest, disrupting any further movement.

He looked up, frantically searching for his hunter, but saw nothing.

He felt a chill creep up his spine as the nearby streetlamp sputtered unsteadily, before dying completely.

"Hu-Ah-!"

Harry couldn't prevent the cry as a masked white face with slanted features appeared not two feet away from him.

He tried vainly to scramble back, but the spirit was fast and descended upon him swiftly. He felt his skin grow cold in a way that was strangely reminiscent; the dark shadows that made the creature's body began to smother over him, slicing through his flesh and causing thick, dark red blood to well up and flow over his skin.

As the wraith fully began to enwrap around him, Harry closed his eyes, breathing shallowly out of reflex… he was really going to die this time.

Bang-click!

Harry's eyes snapped open as he heard something sounding very akin to a gun go off.

Bang-click!

This time, he could feel something embed itself in the shadow above him; feel the shockwave tremor through his own frame.

Bang-click, Bang-click, Bang-click-

Harry felt the creature's hold begin to loosen, and quickly took the opportunity to push it entirely off of him.

Slumping with relief when he saw that it had stopped moving, Harry lay back on his hands, blood trailing down his skin and down onto the dirt from various slashes, which, fortunately were not too deep.

Glancing up towards his saviour, he was startled to recognise him.

"Severus?" he asked, only slightly incredulous.

And indeed, it was he, sour demeanour and all. He seemed to completely ignore Harry, simply striding past him to stand before the masked shadow lying pathetically on the ground.

Harry was alarmed to notice that it was still writhing, though obviously weakened, pinned to the floor as it was. Severus merely sneered, the snarl twisting his features to appear particularly menacing.

With complete disdain, the older vampire cocked the gun a final time and shot the thing straight through the mask, the white porcelain shattering and falling in pieces, softly clattering to the ground.

Harry watched, enthralled, as the shadows seemed to shrivel, leaving only an innocuous black cloak behind. He could now see the bullets that had pinned it, sticking through the material, they gleamed silver through the night.

Harry snapped back to attention as Severus turned to face him. His dark eyes were virtually spitting with venom.

"Take that," he spat disgustedly, throwing Harry the firearm that had been in his hand, letting it spin across the floor, "and hurry back to your sire. Inform him that we shall meet tomorrow night, and that I shall tell him all that he wishes to know."

Harry nodded dazedly, feeling a blush rise as sudden embarrassment hit him hard.

He had needing saving, _again. _

He slowly dragged himself up, the pain from his ribs already greatly diminished. He diffidently fingered the cool silvery metal of the weapon laying on the ground, uncertain whether to actually pick it up or just leave it where it was.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Get going!" snarled Severus, impatient for Draco's little Fledgling to be gone. Draco was going to be…extremely _displeased_ about these turns of events.

And that did not bode well for _anyone_.

Harry flushed a couple of shades darker, and hastily swept the weapon into his hand and half-stumbled, half-jogged out of the alley, intent only on finding his way back to the house as soon as possible.

He was never going out without Draco again.

* * *

**A/N: I hope people didn't get too grossed out. Next chapter will be fun, chats with Sevvy, Draco going all twitchy about Harry's little 'adventure', is all good. And finally some more (hopefully non-blood related) HarryxDraco action! Oh, and feel free to PM me for any questions (you know who you are :). **


	16. A much anticipated night

Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

**A/N:Uhm...hi? Hehe, no one's gonna try and kill me for how long this chapter took are they? Especially when it ain't that great a chapter..hehe,heeeee. YOU KNOW YOU LOVE ME REALLY!!! Right, moving on, this chapter annoyed me, but that's my opinion only, Draco turned out much angrieri than i thoguht he would and I've added some er, 'Ginny' at the end, which when I reread this morning sounded even more funny than when i wrote it last night, lol. Anyway, please read and review!**

**Oh, and MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!**

Warnings: Ginny in a state of consatnt denial. Seriously.

* * *

**A much anticipated night**

The first thing that Harry saw as he stumbled through the double doors, bashing his cracked ribs on the heavy wood as he clumsily made his way through the doorway, was not exactly quite what he would term as comforting.

It was Draco; nice of him to show up.

But…

He did not look happy. At all. In fact, his narrowed stormy grey gaze was more than a little frightening, and the taught line of muscles that were shown by his clenched jaw wasn't particularly reassuring either.

Uncertain with how exactly to proceed with this unexpected situation, Harry could do nothing more than stand there numbly, leaning his back against the door, fighting against a sudden wave of dizziness.

In fact, now that he thought about it, he was also shaking slightly, and was experiencing a sudden bought of lethargy, along with feeling as if he had had a bottle smashed over his head; a headache had appeared with a vicious intensity.

Draco had been most displeased to find that when he had returned, that Harry had not been present anywhere in the house. He had been equally malcontent when he had heard of an odd shuffling from the entrance hall, and, having come to investigate, found his minuo dragging himself inside, trailing small droplets of blood onto the dirtied marble floor as he went.

Watching the man lean back onto the doors behind, Draco swiftly approached, eyes intent on the deep lashes on his charmant's arms.

If Harry had completed his Turning, then the wounds have already healed over by know, as it was, they had barely started to close, and were still leaking deep crimson liquid.

Reaching out with a pale hand, Draco gently let his fingers trail over the nearest cut, pulling away once some red had smeared itself over his skin.

Raising the blood stained fingers to his mouth, Draco delicately licked at them with his tongue, easily identifying the decaying taste of flesh produced by a certain creature he was far too well acquainted with.

Hissing in absolute fury, Draco, eyes flashing a dangerous silver, fixed his glare on Harry's pale face, before running his gaze up and down, observing all the injuries that he had received.

With another guttural hiss, Draco reached out once more and promptly jerked Harry from the wall by his upper arm, before stalking down the corridors at a brisk pace.

Harry just followed meekly, able to sense with ease his sire's festering rage. He could only hope that it was directed at the Death eaters and not him.

…

He could hope, couldn't he? No need to point how stupid he had been to go out by himself in the first place.

Draco pulled him to his study, through the door and flung him onto the couch, before storming round to a cabinet in the corner.

Harry winced as he heard it slam open.

Oh yes, Draco was _mad_.

Within seconds, the fuming blonde was back in front of him, this time accompanied by a bottle of alcohol and cloth, which he promptly began to dab along his wounds.

Harry was rather alarmed to see his skin hiss at the edges wherever it came into contact with the alcohol-soaked fabric.

"Um…Draco?" he asked in a small voice.

Draco, however, ignored him, merely continuing diligently with his work. Once done, he seemingly snapped some bandages from thin air and sharply tied the white fabric around Harry's forearms, where the gashes were deepest.

"I can't do anything to set your ribs, but they should already be healing anyway," said Draco curtly.

The vampire then threw himself in the chair behind his desk and grabbed the bottle from the table and gave it a quick swig, observing Harry intently over the rim.

Harry himself thought that if he was any tenser, he would fall off the couch. As it was he was already sitting straight upright and so stiff that he felt a lot like a statue.

He waited in uneasy silence for Draco to say something. Anything. He didn't like this uncomfortable quiet; it was driving him insane with expectation.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Harry managed to summon the courage to pass on Severus's message in lieu of having anything better to say.

"Severus-…"Harry bit his lip in anxiety, "Severus said that he would meet with you tomorrow night and that-…that he shall tell you all you wish to know."

Harry had diverted his gaze to the floor hastily when he had begun speaking, but now, upon hearing nothing but silence from the vampire opposite, he lifted his head to chance a quick peek at the blonde's expression.

It was completely unreadable, and with dark grey eyes hooded, Harry couldn't even determine whether the man was still angry or not. Damn.

Shifting slightly in his seat, and still feeling inordinately uncomfortable, Harry suddenly wished that he could be anywhere else but here. How the hell could Draco be so bloody intimidating when all he was doing was staring at him?

At any rate, Harry was beginning to feel very disturbed, and it wasn't the sort of distress he had felt from the vampire's previous lusty gazes either. No, this was far different.

Just when Harry was beginning to contemplate the pros and cons of how to commit suicide using only his own tongue, Draco finally deigned to speak.

"Good, " he said lightly, "I'm sure that Severus will be most informative."

His piercing stare did not waver.

"Now, is there some…circumstances, that you would like to inform me about Harry darling?"

Draco's voice was low and the malicious purr was not at all lost on Harry. He swallowed nervously and licked his dry lips convulsively.

Shit, so not good.

"Well, I-…I, um, well, _may_ have gone into town and, um, _may_ of…met…a Death Eater. Maybe." He said haltingly, so softly he was surprised that Draco would be able to hear it at all. As he spoke, it suddenly dawned on Harry how absolutely idiotic it all sounded, and found himself blushing profusely, this time, he thought wryly, with an actual reason.

Surveying Harry critically from over his bottle of 1879 Merlot, Draco mulled over his options, his initial rush of anger having quelled itself, for the time being at least.

Meditatively sipping his on his wine bottle, Draco leaned back further into his desk chair.

"You are not to leave the house unaccompanied again, it is obvious that what happened on Friday evening was _not_ an isolated incident."

Harry winced slightly at the reference to his…death. It still sounded rather bizarre to him.

Meanwhile Draco continued, "And so, until you can defend yourself properly, it is far too dangerous for you to venture out by yourself, which I am sure you can …appreciate, hmm?"

Draco tilted back the bottle completely this time, having placed his feet up on his desk. He appeared completely at ease, yet Harry knew better; he could see the tense form of his shoulders and the tightness around his jaw, signalling that he was restraining his fangs from descending with difficulty.

Well, Harry thought with some relief, it seemed Draco wasn't truly mad at him after all. Still, Draco most certainly did not look relaxed about the situation.

Feeling inexplicably bothered about this fact, Harry was only aware that he had moved at all when he was directly in front of the blonde vampire, and was gently removing the bottle from his grasp.

Still unsure of what the hell he was doing, Harry let himself straddle Draco's lap, resting himself gently against the other's chest, and nuzzling the other's neck a little before just laying there contentedly.

Though Harry may have been unsure of exactly _why_ he was doing this, Draco seemed unsurprised and merely closed his eyes; letting his hand gently pet it's way through his charmant's silky dark hair.

In his opinion, tomorrow night couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

The sun was only beginning to dip under the horizon, shedding an orange light and casting the sky above it pink, but, in Draco's opinion, it was considered late enough to be called _evening_.

Patience, Harry decided, was another thing that bended its will to Draco when needs suited him.

Harry was slightly sceptical of the vampire's impatience, but he could clearly see that Draco very much wanted to talk with Severus as soon as possible, and really, who was he to question him, when he wanted answers just as much?

Also, Harry wanted to know why Severus, of all people, knew apparently more about the situation than Draco did.

They had wiled away the morning by sleeping, on the surprisingly comfortable armchair in Draco's study. It had been slightly disorientating for Harry however, to find that upon waking that he still had his nose, and by default his mouth, suspiciously close to Draco's neck.

The afternoon had passed with Harry secluding himself off in the library once again, to ponder over the books under the labels in the slanted handwriting and doing his best to ignore the slight ache that had inconveniently lodged itself in his canines.

Draco, meanwhile, had disappeared off again too, and when questioned, had airily mentioned something about 'feeding', which had caused Harry to blush (for reasons that Harry wasn't entirely sure of) and Draco to regain the smirk that had been somewhat lacking from the night before.

Harry was aware that he must have made the absolutely charming trip into insanity when he found that he had subconsciously _missed_ it.

And as soon as afternoon could be at its earliest classified as 'evening', Draco had miraculously reappeared, taken him by the arm and here they were, walking through town at only about 6 o'clock (it was, after all, October).

Draco rapped his knuckles across the wood that constituted Severus's front door, and waited seemingly patiently. In fact, now that Harry looked, Draco appeared perfectly calm and composed.

Damn.

How did the blonde _do_ that?

The door creaked open a fractional amount and they were ushered in, much the same way they had been before, only two nights ago.

Clutching his arms about himself, feeling oddly vulnerable under Severus's stare, Harry swiftly followed Draco, resisting the childish urge to hide behind the other man; Snape unnerved him in a way that he _really_ didn't like. At all.

Leaning against a mahogany table, Draco merely observed Severus as he dug around in a cabinet, before disappearing through a door for several moments.

Harry perched on the end of a black sofa next to him, so tense that his back was completely straight, posture rigid.

Severus came bustling back through the doorway, some mysterious items in hand. He moved swiftly, seeming to swoop into the room, rather than walk. He settled himself at a seat in front of a low coffee table.

Harry was startled when he recognised what Severus had placed down; blood bags, complete with hospital labelling, information and all. He was even more startled when one nearly hit him in the face.

Deftly catching it before impact, Harry brought it down to his lap, staring at it for a moment or so before blinking uncomprehendingly. He glanced back up at Severus, the question on the tip of his tongue.

"You lost a lot of blood yesterday, "said Severus curtly, " and as such you will require feeding. It is high time you started drinking properly anyway- and little nibbles off of Draco do not count." He added, when he saw that Harry was going to interrupt.

Harry bit his lip in reply and peered down at the blood bag in hand once again, feeling distinctly uncertain.

Severus, however, took no notice, and breezed on regardless.

"Now you just sit there and drink that while your sire and I discuss far more important matters."

Feeling his distaste for Severus rise, Harry had to forcibly remind himself who it was that had saved him only the night before. It was obvious the older vampire had only done the act due to his…whatever it was with Draco, but all the same, the man _had _done it.

So, instead of an angry retort, Harry bit his tongue and only meekly nodded, fiddling a little with the plastic trim of the bag in his lap.

Severus turned to Draco.

"I presume you heard all about the little _incident_ yesterday?" he asked curtly.

Draco nodded in response, his agitation about said incident only showing by the slight tense of his jaw.

Severus sighed and leaned back into his chair, looking oddly weary.

"It appears that the Death Eaters are indeed active once more, what with two popping up within only the span of a mere few days. I had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that it was an isolated occurrence, but a certain…correspondence shall we say, has made that possibility impossible."

Draco remained impassive, though when he spoke his voice was tinged with a similar weary tone as Severus's, much like he had accepted the inevitable.

"Yes, I had expected as much, no matter how inconvenient it may be."

There was silence for a while, as if both men seemed reluctant to continue the conversation, though both knowing at the same time, that it must.

"The Death Eaters were never exactly organised, more alike to creatures to be set loose," said Draco finally, " so it would stand to reason that they are still being controlled."

Severus nodded slightly, dark eyes half lidded in thought, "It most definitely seems that way."

Draco observed the form of the man before him with keen eyes.

"You are hiding something from me Severus," he stated softly.

Severus, in turn, sighed, before agreeing with the statement, "Indeed I am, Draco, though it is more to further my denial than withhold anything from you."

Draco did not answer, merely letting his stormy grey gaze continue to appraise the older vampire.

He did not have long to wait.

"I have come to the most…reluctant conclusion, that your father has indeed returned to England once again."

Draco merely nodded, but paused as he heard a small gasp of surprise from behind him.

Turning around, Draco blinked and felt his lips twitch.

Harry was looking scandalously adorable.

All curled up on at the edge of the sofa, shoulders slightly hunched and green eyes wide, Harry had managed to bite a small hole in the top corner of the bag and was holding it pursed between small hands as he sucked gently at the tip, a slight trickle of dark red blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

Draco couldn't quite fathom _why_ Harry looked quite so cute at that moment, but he did, and the blonde had to restrain himself from laughing at his poor, unknowing minuo.

Draco was untimely broken from his little vision as Severus gave a small derisive cough from behind him and he was forced to turn, strangely reluctant, back to face the other man.

"Now that you have satisfied yourself," sneered Severus with his usual amount of charm, "I would be particularly interested if perhaps you would give your thoughts on such a matter?"

Draco appraised him seriously for a moment before speaking, "My thoughts are quite my own Severus, but I am wondering, what prompted you so resolutely to your conclusion?"

After knowing Draco for so many years, Severus easily got the hint, and the slight threat behind the man's words.

Severus sighed again, this time rather disconsolately and proceeded to adroitly pull out a letter from seemingly nowhere.

"I received word from your mother Draco."

At this, Draco paled. It was a little hard to tell, considering Draco's already alabaster complexion, but regardless, the blonde's pallor was nearly ashen.

Harry remained wide-eyed at the conversation, eyes flickering between the two other vampires, but remained silent and unconsciously sucked a little harder on his blood supply.

"I-I see." Said Draco after a few moments, noticeably composing himself.

"She is back in Europe then I take it?"

"In Paris in fact," murmured Severus, "she also requests to see you."

Draco closed his eyes, deep in thought; he hadn't seen his mother for decades, and visiting her was not to be the most pleasant of experiences, he was sure. But then again, at the same time, they would have to convene to speak of Lucius anyway.

Draco sighed to himself, why must things always be so difficult?

"Thank you Severus, that was most appreciated, is there anything else you would like to divulge at this moment in time?"

Severus merely stared at Draco with those cold dark eyes of his, expressing no emotion whatsoever.

"No, that is all I know of, I'm afraid."

"Very well, we must be on our way then I suppose."

Severus nodded, but merely turned to gaze into the fireplace, obviously expecting Draco to take his own leave.

Harry, for his part, had only become even more confused by the conversation. Lucius, Draco's father was still alive? Or rather, still existed. And his mother apparently as well. Were they vampires too? And why did the mention of either of his parents seem to upset Draco so much?

Unfortunately the only way to answer any of his questions would be to ask Draco.

And that, thought Harry as he closed the door behind both Draco and himself, still sipping on the remnants of the blood pack, would be about as enjoyable as trying to predict the British weather.

* * *

The hotel door opened and hit the beige walls with a bang. Jerking out of a slight daze, Luna glanced to the red head that framed the doorway.

"You know Ginny, you should really close the door before the Wrackspurts get in," she said solemnly.

Ginny blinked, before entering and shutting the door behind her, deciding to ignore her friend's odd comments. She did say them quite often after all.

Ginny walked sullenly to the bed that Luna was sprawled on, reading a rather peculiar magazine titled _The Quibbler_, and bounced up onto the bedcovers, staring over the other girl's shoulder.

After skimming over a particularly long and detailed article about the dangers of Nargles, Ginny decided it was safe to start the vent she had been itching to release all day, or more like all week, truth be told.

"Luna? Don't you find it odd that Harry hasn't called yet?"

Luna merely made a 'hmm' to show that while listening, she had no opinion on the subject matter. While also informing Ginny that she found her article more fascinating than what Ginny had to say.

"Oh come on Luna! I know you care about Harry just as much as I do! Surely you must be a little worried? Alright, Hermione _does_ normally worry too much about these sorts of things, but really, when was the last time anyone actually spoke to him?"

Luna was silent for a moment, before turning the page lightly.

"I don't think I care quite as much about Harry as you do Ginny," she said vaguely, not pausing a second in her reading.

Ginny merely huffed, folded her arms and fell backwards on the bed, her long red hair getting twisted into tangles.

"But I haven't seen him in over a week! Not even spoken to him. Isn't it alright that I miss him?"

"Well," said Luna lightly, "it _is_ a bit worrying that you miss him so much."

Ginny turned on her side and gaped at her friend, jaw flapping slightly; shocked by her last statement.

"Don't be sad Ginny, it was never meant to be," continued Luna in the airiest tone she possessed.

Ginny sat up immediately, staring at Luna in disbelief, "What do you mean, _it was never meant to be_?" she spluttered.

Luna merely turned another page, "Well, I was under the belief that Harry was gay, and so didn't like girls."

Ginny went red at the proclamation, all the way to the roots of her hair, "WHAT?! Harry isn't gay! I mean, yes, there was that time when we all walked in on him with that-boy from Norway, but it didn't _mean_ anything."

Luna sighed. Ginny continued.

"Not really. Harry was just curious is all. Probably," her faced creased slightly with worry, before smoothing out again, "And at least, the most he is-is …_bi-sexual_, and that means it's perfectly okay for him to like girls too."

Ginny nodded at this, mostly to herself, proud of the conclusion she had come to.

Luna still had her nose buried in her magazine, "I've never seen Harry kiss a girl though, or have a girlfriend," she said in that light tone of hers.

"Well, well…" said Ginny nervously, "he just hasn't met the right girl yet is all, when he does I'm _sure_ he'll go out with her."

Luna merely gave another 'hmm' and didn't reply.

* * *

**A/N:How was that, hope it twas ok, aaah, poor Ginny, oh what shall happen to her...Anyway please review, i din't get many last time, oh and happy christmas:)**


	17. Paris

Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

**A/N:umm...hi? Please don't kill me! I've been really busy during x-mas and new year-bloody relatives. I wrote most of this in a huge 5 hour stint last night, fueled by a series of bueno's and cookies, so if the quality goes down towards the end of the chapter, it was coz it was 1 in the morning after a sugar rush :) Well, this chapter has everything! Plot, movement, character development and harryxdraco action (finally! It's been awhile!). Oh yes, warnings!**

**IMPORTANT: There is a LEMON directly below! so if you don't want to read...well,don't then and skip down past the first page breaker in the story, ok? Ok! I'm afraid I find it really difficult to write smut for some reason, so feedback much apprreciated.**

Warnings: LEMON goodness up ahead.

* * *

**Paris**

Lips danced against fevered skin, nipping their way down a slim collarbone and then across a pale chest, pausing briefly to suck playfully on a rose nipple.

"Ah!"

Lips continued to wander, a skilful tongue making an appearance to lick its way down, deliberately pressing against new-found sweet spots.

"…ngh…"

Slim hands joined in, tickling sides and moving gently lower, just skimming over to stroke teasingly on the soft skin of inner thighs. The person below arched their back in an effort to desperately create more contact.

"…don't…ah…stop…"

Lips continued to make their way over pear white skin, lower and lower until they came to a stop, nestled in silky dark curls. A deep inhalation and that tongue flicked out once more.

"Fuck!"

Sharp pants filled the air as Harry threw his head back against the fine bed covers, hands twining down into silver hair.

"Ah-ah-ah darling, none of that now…"

The form above him shifted and the lips were removed. Keening with displeasure, Harry refused to remove his hands from their coveted position, tangled up as they were.

A dark chuckle rang from somewhere above him.

"Uhn!"

A delicious mouth devoured his own, tongues pleasantly entwined, Draco kneeling above either side of his hips.

Hands became lax and started to drift from silver locks down a firm back, sharp fingernails digging into the skin as they went, leaving fine red trails in their wake.

"Charmant…so…lovely…"

Sharp teeth nipped again, this time on his bottom lip, sending a shiver of both pain and pleasure, and causing a little blood to trickle down his chin, which was promptly lapped up by a waiting tongue.

"…Dra…co…please…"

The sinful laugh echoed once again.

The one above pressed down firmly, rocking forward to bring the greatest contact.

"Ah!"

Harry let out a pained hiss as their erections rubbed forcefully together, the pent up sensation causing him to bite hard into his own lip and for his spread hands to twist harshly on the ruffled sheets.

"…ha……don't stop….fuck, please don't stop…"

His reply was another tight roll of the hips, and nails gripping deeper into his skin.

The friction increased further and the pressure began to blaze. Heat coiled fiercely, rushing up and down, making his vision begin to burn a hot white.

He arched his back, more…he needed…more…more of that glorious _friction_.

"…ngh…har…der!"

He felt himself begin to tighten, and the lips moved, kissing their way from his mouth down towards his neck. The whiteness was getting brighter.

"…ah……fuck!"

Teeth drove deep into flesh and the pressure became too much.

Blood flowed gently and there was a deep groan from above, for a few moments he remained taught, before slowly relaxing back into the forgiving mattress of the bed, his lower lip finally released with a whimper as he felt a hot wetness appear all over his stomach.

Draco collapsed heavily on top of him, licking lazily at the wound on Harry's neck. He chuckled lowly once again.

"You taste positively exquisite darling, the finest of wines…and so lovely…" he mumbled, nuzzling Harry's neck with his nose.

Harry merely hummed in response before his eyes slipped closed, falling into sleep almost immediately.

* * *

Harry awoke several hours later, delightfully slowly, and feeling such a great contentment for once, that he stubbornly refused to open his eyes, merely fisting the silk covers in his fists and turning over to settle more comfortably within the warm sheets. 

The silk slid wonderfully over his bare skin, nearly causing him to groan out loud at the sensation; for some reason he was feeling particularly sensitive that morning.

Harry was just about to slip off back to dreams when he felt something brush up against him. It was light, easy for him to dismiss as just another shifting of the sheets.

However, when this slight brush was followed by a pale, strong arm sneaking its way over his waist, to grip tightly on his hipbone, he found it a little harder to ignore.

Especially when the rest of the person pressed themselves up against him, or rather, he was pulled into _them_.

Harry was further startled to discover that the person next to him wasn't wearing anything…. and neither was he.

Eyes snapping wide in panic, Harry quickly sat himself up, letting the arm wrapped about him fall into his lap.

Observing his surroundings, it did not take long for him to figure out the situation, or what had led to it; memories of the night before rushed into his mind, causing him to rip the covers in his hand slightly as he tensed and the dreaded scarlet flush to appeared all over his face.

Last night, after leaving Severus's house, they had walked quickly and quietly back to the house. Harry had had a veritable menagerie of questions he was nearly bursting to ask the other vampire, but he had somehow managed to hold his tongue.

When they had arrived back, Draco had remained in his non-communicative mood and promptly stalked off, as Harry had quickly learned that Draco was often wont to do. Harry was tempted to follow him, to see what on earth Draco actually did during these times, but he had refrained, feeling oddly snubbed by the silent dismissal.

Refusing to ponder reasons why he would feel so, Harry had just as quickly stalked his own way to the library, which was rapidly becoming his favourite place to haunt in the entire house.

He had simply sat there, cuddled up on the couch reading for several hours, until the candles had nearly burned down to the bare wicks, leaving little pools of wax in their wake.

It was just as the first tinges of dawn had started to make their appearance on the edges of the horizon, and Harry had just left the library in favour of finding somewhere to sleep that he met up with Draco once more.

The vampire had seemed a little more interested in Harry than he had been when he had disappeared earlier, which had had Harry feeling inexplicably irritated once again. He was quite happy to simply _ignore _the blonde in passing but, unfortunately, Draco made that option rather difficult when he suddenly pushed him up against a wall, kissing him fervently.

Most thought promptly vanished from Harry's mind. At some point they had managed to move along the wall into a shadow, which had let Draco move them from the hallway and into his bedroom.

Things had become slightly more …heated from thereon in. Though Harry couldn't now quite recall when the clothes had been shed or _why_ Draco had suddenly desired so much…intimacy.

Casting wary green eyes over to figure still resting beside him, Harry decided that he would perhaps never be able to fathom the other man's mind. Considering how…odd he could be, he absently wondered if he even wanted to.

After reliving the events, Harry was forcefully reminded of his own undressed state. Taking advantage of the fact the Draco was still asleep, to which Harry refused to think he looked sweet, or in any way, shape or form innocent, he quickly scanned the room for some clothes.

He frowned slightly when he didn't see any, not even strewn about in odd places; what the hell had they done last night?

Slipping from the bed to the floor, and taking one of the light silken sheets with him, Harry hurried over to one of the wardrobes and yanked it open, not being fussy in grabbing some of the plainer attire. Draco was a couple of inches taller than him, and perhaps a little broader in the shoulders, but only by a small margin, so the clothes were a good enough fit for him to borrow for long periods.

He was buttoning up the shirt when he heard some rustling from the bed, causing him to turn around to see Draco get up from the bed, completely shameless about his lack of dress.

Even though a slight dusting of pink returned to dash across his cheeks, Harry really didn't expect anything less from the man; it wasn't as if he had anything to be ashamed of anyway.

Definitely not.

Feeling his blush grow just a bit warmer, Harry resolutely turned away, fiddling with the edges of the sheet still held limply in his hand.

"Want to explain what last night was about?" he asked, voice light.

Draco paused in his own dressing, angling his head slightly to peer at his minuo better.

The vampire let a small smirk twist the edges of his mouth.

"I missed you, and then, upon seeing you again," Harry glanced sharply over to the man lounging lazily against the wardrobe opposite, "I simply couldn't control myself."

Draco observed Harry intently for a moment.

"You're not going to blame me now are you? Besides," he continued, "its really all your own fault."

Harry spluttered indignantly, throwing down the sheet clutched in his hand and stormed over to the unconcerned vampire on the other side of the room.

"And how, exactly," he spat, "is what happened my _fault_?"

Well," said Draco lowly, before leaning down so their noses were barely an inch apart, "its just that you're so…delectable. It makes you utterly irresistible."

And before the blush could even start to rise for yet another appearance Draco had placed his mouth firmly against Harry's, pulling him further in by a tight arm about his waist.

As Harry felt Draco's tongue sensually slide against his own, he felt any lingering anger simply…melt away.

By the time the blonde pulled away, smirking a little in satisfaction, Harry's dark green eyes were hooded, and he felt a little dazed.

He was subsequently a little shocked when Draco suddenly changed the subject completely, stepping away and walking to face the large bay windows that looked over the private gardens below.

"How much did you follow of my conversation with Severus last night?" he asked softly, his gaze now fixed to something out the window.

The sudden seriousness left Harry feeling a little off balance, but, after dealing with several of Draco's 'bi-polar' moments, he was able to gather himself a bit better, and answer the question.

"Not much," Harry admitted quietly, "I got that your-that your father is back…whatever that means, and that-that your…mother wishes to speak to you."

Draco was silent for several moments, continuing to simply stare out of the glass.

"Good," he finally said at length, "then you should understand me when I say that we need to visit my mother."

Harry was halfway through nodding in affirmation when he stopped, eyes a little wide, "Wait, we?! You mean…I'm going with you?"

Draco turned slightly, "Of course," he said, that damnable smirk back on his face. "You didn't really think I would leave you here, all by yourself?"

He looked vaguely amused for a moment before becoming serious once again, reverting back to stare out the window.

"Especially after all that has happened?" he asked softly, seemingly to himself, as his gaze lingered on a dry, rusty red patch that stained the patio slabs below.

"Besides," he said, pulling himself away and moving to saunter out the room, "I want you to meet my mother."

And with that enigmatic statement, smirk still firmly in place Draco left the room.

One day, Harry swore to himself, he would make it so that _Draco_ had to follow after _him…_

Still grumbling slightly, Harry followed him out the room.

* * *

Paris, Harry decided silently to himself, wasn't exactly like all the romance novels portrayed it to be. First off, as he vainly tried to keep up with Draco's long strides, it was full of French people. 

Not that there was anything wrong with that! It was just…so many people. And, well, they all seemed to lose their temper really very quickly, and made it exceptionally difficult to get anywhere.

He roughly jerked himself past a throng of people queuing outside a theatre and rushed to catch up to Draco.

Second, arrival wasn't all that glamorous either. They had simply walked out the house until they were outside the boundary, Draco had then pulled him towards himself and then they had…vanished he supposed in the shade of the trees that lined the paved road.

Falling out of a shadow in some alleyway somewhere and banging straight into a rather hard wall isn't the best for first impressions either.

Rubbing gingerly at his-still-slightly-sore-arm, which Harry wouldn't have been surprised if it had been fractured just a couple of hours ago, he scowled at the form of the blonde walking so elegantly just up ahead.

And thirdly, though it wasn't really limited to _Paris_, the mysterious thoughts were making an unwelcome appearance once again. They were incredibly stupid things like, being annoyed that Draco had dismissed his injury so easily (which had hurt damn it!), and some odd sort of frustration that Draco refused to wait for him, causing Harry to have to fight to follow after him.

These sort of thoughts were annoying, in ways that Harry decided he _didn't_ wish to explore, but they were also making him increasingly irate with the vampire in front of him. Draco was just being so…so…. so…. so…careless!

Harry momentarily paused in his walking, careless? That did not make any sense at all. Yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but think that was _exactly _what Draco was being.

Pushing all irritating thoughts aside, Harry made strides to catch up to the blonde, determined to find out where Draco was leading them.

"So," he said, purposefully latching onto the vampire's arm as a bustle of tourists nearly sent him careening into the road, "where exactly is it that we're going?"

Draco glanced at the minuo from the corner of his eye, focusing for a moment on the hand resting on his arm.

Looking back to the street, he replied, "To a house, well, more of a mansion I suppose, just outside the Vincennes district. It is solely for…underground use, and my mother, being the little societal butterfly that she is, if she's anywhere, that's where'll she'll be."

Harry nodded a little in understanding, and hitched the scarf he had stolen from one of Draco's drawers higher up on his neck; October was getting on, and the weather was getting colder, even for a vampire's senses.

Walking along further, and stubbornly ignoring any feeling of hurt as Draco slipped his arm from his as they crossed a particularly crowded street, Harry wondered to himself why they couldn't of possibly 'shadow hopped' closer to the place. His curiosity demanded that he ask, but…well, Draco was being even stranger than usual, being oddly dismissive and flippant.

Feeling something in his chest get a little tighter at the thought, Harry quickly cut off all thoughts. Draco was probably just more on edge because he was going to see his mother, who, now that he thought of it, was a vampire as well?

His curiosity rose once again, but one look at the form of his sire kept him quiet.

The rest of the trip was conducted in a strangely tense silence, not that Draco noticed much; he was far too deep in thought.

* * *

The sun was setting by the time they arrived at the gates. The last defiant casts of orange and fire-yellow illuminated the way and glinted off the iron bars lining the long driveway, causing Harry to narrow his eyes slightly against the glare. 

Though he would never admit it, he had been slightly rattled by the guards they had passed by only a few moments ago.

Tall, pale skinned and not making any attempt to hide the shiny weapons in their pockets, they were more than a little intimidating. Harry had never seen another vampire, other than Draco and Severus, and this time he could clearly distinguish that these two were far stronger than he.

Inwardly, he vaguely wondered why he wasn't so intimidated by Draco, whom he knew was probably more powerful, in vampire terms at least, than either of them.

The worst thing though was passing their inspection. Though it wasn't really an 'inspection'. They had both been casually smoking against the gates, but, as soon as they had looked up and seen Draco, they had straightened and even appeared a little…nervous? Draco approached with no qualms at all and spoke to them in low tones that Harry hadn't been able to make out.

They had hurriedly allowed him admittance and they had passed through with no problem. No, the thing that had unsettled Harry was the cursory glance he had received as he had gone by, huddled close behind Draco, and then the disdained dismissal.

He normally wouldn't have cared so much. I mean he had been a vampire for what? Not even a week. But…everyone seemed to be dismissing him lately, Severus always did so, and even Draco appeared to be doing so today.

The fact left him feeling oddly cold as he walked up the drive, trailing closely behind the older vampire. It most certainly did not improve any sense of self worth that he had at the moment.

As they finished the path and started up some long wide steps and through a pair of heavy dark wood doors, and another pair of armed guards, Harry felt incredibly small, and insignificant.

And, it became clear as they entered that Draco, whoever he was, _was_ significant in some way.

Wrapping his arms tightly about himself, Harry remained following obediently as they were directed down a lavish hallway, and then another.

Harry wasn't paying too much attention to the décor, but it was obvious from the abundance of tapestries, oil paintings, chandeliers and marble, that this house was a symbol of luxury and expenditure.

Draco never broke his swift stride as a man seemingly appeared from nowhere from the shadows reaching up the entire side of the hallway. The newcomer easily matched Draco pace and hurriedly started up a conversation. This time, they were close enough for Harry to overhear.

"My Lord," Harry's widened fractionally behind them, "we were not aware that you were coming. If you had informed us then we would have better preparations for you-"

Draco dismissed the hasty excuses with a wave of his hand and his reply was terse.

"I have no intention of staying, _Hote, _my visit shall be short. I was informed that my mother was here?"

It was really more of a statement than a question.

_Hote _stammered for a moment, but quickly smoothed over his anxiety.

"But of course, your grace, Lady Narcissa is indeed in residence here at the moment, I presume you wish to meet with her directly."

Draco merely nodded sharply, his long strides taking him around yet another corner in the maze of corridors. Harry hurried to make sure he wasn't left behind, though he was slightly perplexed at how much effort it took to keep up, Draco was only a little taller than him in the first place.

Harry huffed slightly at the thought, causing the man walking astride with Draco to overhear and turn to seek the origin of the noise with a questioning look.

The man peered at him a moment; he had a slim but long nose and thick dark hair Harry noticed, with very dark eyes; he reminded him a bit of Severus.

The man however, quickly turned back to face Draco, only this time with an obviously inquiring look.

Draco ignored him, stormy grey eyes fixed ahead, obviously lost in thought. The _Hote _said nothing and promptly started to speak to Draco about something or another, undoubtedly important.

Harry felt the something in his chest tighten just a little bit more and turned his head away, not wanting to gaze at Draco's back any longer.

He tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Draco give something that sounded oddly like a growl. _Hote_ appeared momentarily quite anxious.

"Yes, I'm afraid so, but the ball should be winding down by this point, we do need to feed sometime after all…"he trailed off with a slight nervous laugh before his face went blank once again.

So used to walking by this point, Harry nearly crashed into Draco's back when he halted in front of another pair of double doors (which he didn't really think was that wise of a decision at the moment).

Draco closed his eyes for a moment and took a moment to calm himself down. It wouldn't do to be angry when he was visiting his mother; she could be trying enough all by herself.

Feeling at least a bit calmer, Draco easily pushed open the heavy doors and stalked into the grand ballroom.

Harry was inordinately glad that all the noise covered his gasp of surprise; he was feeling self conscious enough as it was. It truly was a grand sight though, music seemed to fill the room from every corner and the sheer number of people, or rather vampires was completely overwhelming.

The most impressive sight however, was not the remarkable amounts of polished wood and marble, the glittering crystal and rich deep swirl of colours that filled the room; it was the dancing.

Men and women fitted in stiff, but beautiful clothes and swathes of fabric, moving with such precision and grace.

Harry felt his size shrink even further, not to mention that he felt very…grubby he supposed, in comparison to everyone else.

Casting another sidelong glance to Draco, who was swiftly making his way to the back of the room, Harry swallowed down his growing anger and kept silent.

They went up an equally grand staircase, the banisters on either side gleaming a deep ruby red. They moved past the marble statues at the top and Draco continued to a side door, one that Harry would not of noticed if he had only been passing.

Draco paused for a moment just before the door handle, eyeing it somewhat warily. Harry peered around his form, wondering what could make the vampire temporary halt.

He heard the silver haired man sigh wearily, and Draco finally glanced back over his shoulder towards Harry.

"My mother can be a bit…tiring, most of the time, even if I am her son," he seemed to hesitate slightly, some indecision crossing over his eyes, "it would probably be best if you kept silent, no need to draw her attention," he mumbled slightly to himself.

Harry had to forcefully bite down on his tongue so as not to start shouting. He felt himself twitch a little in indignation. Stay silent?! That's what he had been doing practically the entire day because _someone_ had decided to be the big, scary moody vampire all day!

Draco opened his mouth to perhaps to say something more, but, upon spying the verdant gleam in Harry's usually darker eyes, he refrained, simply turning about to open the door.

* * *

The room was in a similar style to the rest of the house, large chandeliers and windows covered with thick curtains and marble that reflected the light to make the entire house oddly bright. The room itself was thin and rectangular, leading the eyes to draw irresistibly to the other end, opposite the door. 

Several vampires lined the walls, weaponry plainly in sight, dressed in dark suits, but what drew all attention was the figure seated on the large ornamental chair at the head of the room.

It was a woman, she was not particularly tall, and possessed a very delicate build, her wrists were so thin and she just seemed so…petite. Her skin was paper white and she had cascades of almost white blonde hair, though, Harry noticed, it was slightly more golden than sliver like Draco's was.

Her hair was held back to the base of her head with a myriad of clips, decorated with pearls and other gems that glittered in the light. Her lips, eyelids and cheeks were thickly painted in makeup; shocking red, silvery grey charcoal and dusty pink respectively.

She was wearing several layers of dresses, making up a thick, and very heavy drape of fabric, though the outer layer was a beautiful royal blue, and as she shifted slightly in her seat, Harry heard the slight creak of corsets and saw the beads embroidered on her clothing glitter.

All in all, she was the most beautiful, and terrifyingly intimidating woman Harry had ever met. Any intention to speak, just to spite Draco quickly disappeared in wisp of smoke in his mind.

He shifted himself a bit further behind Draco. You know, now that he thought about it, Draco's back really was something rather fascinating for him to examine all day.

"Mother," greeted Draco evenly, walking up smoothly to the woman in the chair, bending down to place a brief kiss on her cheek. He withdrew and stepped back several steps, so that he stood below her.

Personally Harry thought it was a good idea; those cold blue eyes were so severe, he prayed that a situation where he had to be alone with the woman never arose.

In return, Narcissa raised a small hand, a ring sparkling briefly before returning back to its place, neatly folded on her lap.

"Draco, I trust that Severus passed on my message?" she asked lightly.

Draco nodded lightly in reply, to which Narcissa sighed.

"I had hoped, that when we met again, it was in better circumstances…it has been such a long time…"she trailed off, her voice somewhat softer than what it had been.

Draco nodded once more, though a little more firmly this time, "Indeed, it has been over half a century since we were last close enough to each other to visit. It is most unfortunate for us to have to meet in such circumstances," he said.

Narcissa inclined her head a little, a feat considering the amount of weight piled upon it.

She suddenly leaned back in her chair, "Lucius always was," she closed her eyes and spoke softly, "…a most troublesome man. The fact that he still has some sort of twisted family loyalty left in him just makes everything the more difficult for us."

Draco remained standing were he was, unmoved. Though Harry, who was stationed behind him, could see how tense he was by the strain across his shoulders.

Narcissa gave another sigh and leaned forward somewhat, with an accompanying rustle of fabric and click of jewellery.

"I trust you know what to do if he should decide to drop by for a visit Draco?"

Her tone was light, but her eyes were once again as sharp as steel. Draco nodded in assent to the proclamation and Narcissa visibly relaxed a little, or as much as she could in her confine of clothing and metal.

It was then that she noticed Harry, who was half hiding behind the protection of Draco's back.

Harry felt an irrational fear when the woman locked eyes with his and he swallowed convulsively. She was such a small individual, yet she had such a presence.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, as much as her hair would allow and peered somewhat curiously at the creature stationed behind her son. Dark hair and green eyes; pretty enough, she supposed.

She glanced questioningly to Draco, "Draco, how…unusual of you to have brought something with you, you don't normally bring pets."

The question certainly sounded innocent enough, the tone was light, only carrying a slight surprise. Odd then, how it made Harry's insides turn to bitter ice. A…pet? Was that what he was? Was that all he was to Draco? Something to entertain him until he grew bored of him?

The tightness in his chest grew some more, making his throat and mouth go dry. He glanced towards Draco when he heard him answer.

"No," he said in a cool, slightly tight voice, "he is _not_ a pet."

Narcissa was unfazed by her son's cold tone, "Oh," was all she said, rather dispassionately, flicking one more observant glance towards the boy before deciding to observe Draco himself.

Glad to have attention removed from himself, and feeling lighter after Draco's correction, Harry allowed himself some amusement at Draco's expense as he was subjected to his mother's inquisition.

"Draco," she demanded, extremely offended, "what on earth have you been doing with yourself? You look positively awful, have you no shame?"

Harry hid a smile in his scarf at Draco's incredulous look towards his mother.

He also had to restrain laughter as Draco spluttered in his response.

"Mo-Mother?! What on earth are you talking about? I look as I always do."

"Well, if that is the case, then you must _always _look awful," came the prompt reply. She peered shrewdly at him for a moment or two.

"I'm sure it's because of that decrepit house you still insist about residing in, why you would ever wish to live _there_ of all places is beyond me," she sniffed.

Draco gave a frustrated sigh, "Mother, someone has to look over the house and it is only slightly rundown-"

Both Harry and Narcissa gave him unbelieving looks at that.

"Draco," she said imperatively, "I know for a fact that the manor is far below satisfactory, the reason why I keep mentioning it is because I simply do not understand why you have not taken it upon yourself to renovate the place if you must insist on living there. It is not as if we are lacking in funds any, " here she looked down her nose at her son, "_some_ of us still kept the Malfoy bank accounts healthy."

Draco refused to wince at the accusation, they had argued over this for well over two hundred years and _nothing_ had changed in that time.

"Mother," he started exasperatedly, "there is simply no point in doing so, I mainly use the manor during times of Rest, which can last for decades, and when I am Awake, then I am often not there at all, therefore there is no point in renovating. You already know my answer on the subject; and nothing has changed since the last time we spoke."

Harry flicked his gaze from one blonde to the other; it was distinctly amusing to watch Draco and his mother talk and argue like any other, _usual_ family.

During this, he suddenly caught the corner of Draco's grey eyes, which appeared a little wider than usual, as if he had just remembered that Harry was there. He frowned in annoyance that Draco seemed to have forgotten about him. What the hell was with Draco today?

For Draco himself, he had suddenly realised that something _had_ changed, Harry was with him now; he suddenly recalled what they had done early that morning.

Feeling a rush of _something_, Draco turned to face his mother, his features contemplative.

"Perhaps…perhaps I shall take your suggestions into account mother."

Both Harry and Narcissa glanced at Draco in surprise, not expecting him to acquiesce so suddenly.

Narcissa spared another glance towards the boy standing behind Draco, her curiosity about him growing. Her son was not one to take a companion of any sort; he only took a pet when they interested him, which was hardly ever, and he most certainly _never_ took them with him to visit people.

Glancing out the window, Narcissa decided that it was a question reserved for another time.

"I'm afraid that I must cut our time short for now. I must go out to feed, perhaps we can continue our discussions further when I return and," she added, glancing at the guards lining the walls, "in more private circumstances?"

Draco assented with a quiet, "Of course," and they were ushered out of the room. Harry passed out the door just in time to see Narcissa rise; she really did seem to be such a fragile person.

* * *

**A/N:Ooh, things have gotten a lot more interesting haven't they?#rubs hands together evilly# Especially Draco ignoring Harry eh? If you ask nicely, I'll explain that at the beginning of next chapter, as i doubt it'll get explained properly in the story. Hoped you forgive me for not updating in so long- the chapter WAS longer! (please don't hurt me!)**

**Hote- means host in French.**

**Right, next chapter, one I'm sure you have all been awaiting for, when the gang comes from Italy to meet up with Harry! Please review for me, it makes me really happy and I will answer any questions that you may have for me! Review :P**


	18. A Fire in the Blood

Disclaimer:I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N:** You know, I hadn't actually planned to put any of this 'angst' thing you speak of into my story, especially not of the relationship kind. Huh...shows what I know. My beta's going to kill me for this...I think I'll go take refuge in my special 'angry mob shelter'. Yes, that sounds like a fine idea. Meanwhile, I'm sorry that this chapter took so long, especially as it isn't that long (I had to chop into two new chapters it was going to be so long), and then I make it, not only really bad, but then probably make everyone really angry too. I suck...BUT I plan on having the next chapter out much more quickly, so never fear! Please read and review!

Warnings: Unexpected angst...seriously. Oh, and a surprisingly bitchy Narcissa too (another thing I didn't expect).

* * *

**A Fire in the Blood**

Harry shifted uncomfortably, eyes fixed on his clasped hands and vainly trying not to let the tensed hunch of his shoulders show.

He was sitting on a plush settee, upholstered in silk green fabric and embroidery, situated in some sort of side-parlour. They had been directed here as soon as they had left the room where they had met with Draco's mother and that had been about two hours ago.

A very _long_ two hours conducted in absolute silence, even though Draco was only sitting a few feet away, on a matching armchair.

Harry gave a small, stiff sigh, purposefully ignoring the incidental fact that the blonde had taken the seat furthest away from him, and let his eyes roam the area for the hundredth time that night.

It was a small room, but lavishly furnished, almost cosy with its thick soft carpet, burning fireplace and drawn shutters. The walls were surrounded by wood panelling, which in its rich ruby red hue, gave the room a great amount of warmth.

The slightly steaming tea set just reinforced the relaxed ambience.

It was unfortunate then, that Harry couldn't bring himself to be comfortable.

He glanced once more at the vampire sitting in the corner. He was turned away from the light, not that it would impair Harry's vision any, but the angle was so that most of his face was hidden from view.

Thus making it even more difficult than usual to divine the unpredictable man's thoughts. The fact that he had not a said a word to him in the entire time they had been alone wasn't helping Harry's paranoid thoughts one bit either.

Draco had told him that it was better for him not to say anything at all when they visited Narcissa, and Harry had decided, on reflection, to keep up that advice. Never before had Draco looked quite so…unreachable. He had always been somewhat aloof and mysterious, but this-this was just ridiculous!

Harry huffed slightly and folded his arms. Fortunately for Draco, Harry didn't dare say anything about it quite yet; they were still in Paris, and the presence of so many, far more powerful vampires, was intimidating enough for Harry to keep his mouth firmly shut.

And so, he had to content himself with ranting, and circular trains of thoughts in his own head, waiting with a certain amount of unease for Narcissa to return.

Harry's head shot up from its position staring at the floor as the door was abruptly pushed open.

He was disappointed to see that it was just another messenger; he was growing exhausted from all the tedious waiting.

The newcomer, Harry idly noticed, was the same man from before, the _Hote._ The man appeared to have returned to his palpitations, movements sharp but indirect, his dark eyes dancing with a certain amount of anxiety.

The _Hote_ swiftly moved through the room towards Draco, bending down to speak in hushed tones in the blonde's ear.

Harry felt the unpleasant sensation in his throat tighten once again just a little more, though this time it was also accompanied with a flash of something searing briefly through his veins, before returning to simmer angrily in his stomach.

He caught a few words of conversation.

"My Lord, …unexpected…. I'm afraid that…. new…that. I'm sure…appropriately…problem…yes?"

Harry watched detachedly as he saw Draco nod irritably, before rising and begin to stalk over towards the door. He did not turn to even once spare a glance at Harry, not even when he called out a sharp, "Stay," before leaving the room in a rush.

Harry, half risen from his seat merely stared at the closed back of the door for several moments; mind still processing Draco's blunt command, which one would normally give to a dog.

It took a few moments, and then Harry let himself fall back onto the sofa with a despondent flump, still staring wide eyes at the door, not entirely sure what had just happened.

Didn't…didn't Draco like him anymore? Harry winced at the needy tone of his thoughts; it was really quite pathetic. Yet, the notion that he had been purposefully skirting over the entire past two hours would just _not_ go away.

Harry frowned, mind swirling confusedly.

He was just about to think of something that was likely just as hurtful, when he was fortunately derailed from all thought.

The other side door had opened, and this time it _was_ Narcissa that walked inside.

The only thing Harry was thinking about now was panicking.

He-he couldn't be in the same room, (alone!) with her! What would he do, say? More importantly, what would _she_ do?

As soon as she entered, Harry jumped up from his seat, somehow he just thought it appropriate, and forcibly restrained his outward display of mental panic to just twisting his fingers roughly together.

Narcissa, for her part, held the same dispassionate gaze as before, her pale blue eyes flickering round the room before a small, somewhat tight smile graced her face.

"Ah," she said, moving rather deftly through the room considering the amount of clothing she was manoeuvring around with her, "it's just the two of us for the moment. How convenient."

Harry used the excuse of sitting back down to hide the sudden tremor that ran through him. The mention of '_convenience_' was perhaps a little too ominous for his already tired mind to take.

Meanwhile, Narcissa seated herself in a cascade of fabric; her back pulled away from the chair to remain straight. She then smoothly pushed two enamelled teacups from the side of the table to the middle, before gently lifting the equally decorated teapot.

Harry stubbornly refused to let his surprise show when instead of tea, the smell of blood gently wafted into the room, or that the contents that were poured out were steaming slightly.

Narcissa finished, and just as elegantly as all her actions seemed to be, gracefully pushed the second teacup in Harry's direction, obviously an invitation.

Slightly incredulous that he was about to have what he supposed was the vampire equivalent of _tea_ with this woman, Harry could only mutter out a small word of thanks.

He was highly aware of the sharp gaze directed on the top of his head, taking in every detail and feature.

More to have something to do, Harry sipped at the teacup, unable to stop the small scrunch of his nose at the peculiar taste of blood mingled with spice.

Narcissa gave a soft laugh from across from him.

"It's flavoured with cinnamon and cloves, giving it a somewhat of an acquired taste I'm afraid."

She levelled a look at Harry that made him squirm against the back of the settee.

"Especially for the newly initiated."

Harry could say nothing and Narcissa took her own sip of 'tea'. She let slim fingers gently trace the rim as she set it back onto the table.

A poignant silence stretched for several minutes, neither of the two saying a word; Narcissa was busy observing the creature that Draco had actually deigned to bring along and Harry was determinedly trying to ignore the stare.

Finally the woman gave a heavy sigh, her chest heaving with the movement.

"So, Draco has actually Turned you has he?" She did not wait for him to respond with the obvious. "Well, isn't that something, he's never taken in a Fledgling before, he has preferred to remain alone for such a _very_ long time."

Harry couldn't quite stop the shiver at her tone, it was light, but it still held a seemingly endless amount of blasé sentiment. He distracted himself by taking another drink of the metallic mix of cinnamon and cloves from his cup, impressed when he managed to lift it without betraying his tremors of fear.

Narcissa was an incredibly intimidating woman.

She leaned her elbows on the table, apparently disregarding some of her impeccable manners, and laid her pointed chin on entwined fingers.

He saw one of her rings glint in the firelight.

"Now, I think you and me should have a little talk don't you think? Yes, I think so. We should, I suppose, start with your name."

She peered pointedly at him, and Harry swallowed in a vain attempt to find his voice again; he appeared to have left it behind somewhere back in England.

"Harry," he at length was able to stutter out, "Harry Potter."

"Oh? Rather a common name, but, that's not really for me to decide is it?" It wasn't really a question.

"No, I suppose it isn't," replied Harry, with as much poise as he could manage which, while Narcissa was in the room, wasn't much.

Narcissa smiled in an indulgent manner, lips pulling tight. He felt her shadowed eyes glance over him once again, as if she couldn't quite decide what to make of him.

And indeed, she couldn't. As far as she was concerned, this…boy, not even truly Turned yet, was far below what her son should be keeping company with.

Oh yes, the Fledgling had a certain prettiness, but surely not enough for Draco to Turn him and keep him?

Narcissa sighed imperceptibly. Draco had always displayed good taste in the past, with a few notable exceptions; she fiercely hoped this was not one of these times. Perhaps this little slip of a childe would someday amount to something?

Though, from his shy demeanour and unapparent power, she was doubtful on the subject. She sighed again; over the last couple of centuries she and Draco hardly ever saw eye to eye.

She flicked her heavy painted lashes over to the creature sitting rigidly on the settee once again. She had desired for her son to find himself a proper companion for a while now. And not just to have someone else to fuss over said man's health with.

Draco was a powerful vampire and he had spent most of his time in Rest. Not a good combination, gaining power with age, but not the control. And not too mention that the isolation would be doing him no good either. Such actions could lead to a state of lunacy, or worse.

And on top of all that, he had been free to do whatever he wished for the past three hundred years or more.

Simply put, Draco really needed someone who could bring company, but also more importantly, keep him inline.

This little thing that Draco had brought with him did not seem produce any of these qualities.

A disappointment.

But, at least she should be heartened by the fact that Draco had taken an interest in someone, no matter who they were. Perhaps next time Draco would choose a companion better suited to him.

She appraised this 'Harry' once again.

"You appear to be quite advanced in your Turning, it is likely to be fully completed soon, I'm curios as to when Draco Turned you?"

Harry nibbled his lip, thankful that he hadn't started as the silent Narcissa had suddenly spoken, eyes flicking to the side as he recalled the answer.

"Well, its Thursday at the moment, so Friday…six days ago," he answered, words coming out in a bit of a rush due to his haste to respond to the question.

Narcissa leaned back from the table, masking her faint surprise. It usually took up to several weeks for a Fledgling to fully Turn, without extenuating circumstances that is. To Turn in one week, that was very curious.

She gave a tight smile, the lines on her face taught.

"Ah, no wonder I have not heard about you then, Draco usually tells me everything you see, we're _very _close."

Her words were soft, as always, and yet they had the mysterious quality of sounding like the direst of threats at the same time.

Also, her effect that she seemed to hold over him was seriously beginning to irritate Harry. Fortunately for him, he just couldn't quite work up the nerve to actually say something of the sort to her, though he was sure his tone would say just as much.

Narcissa continued, "Now, I don't know how long you're going to be…accompanying my son, but I would just like to inform you of some things that are required of your station."

Harry blinked in surprise, "My…station?" he repeated blithely.

A spark of irritation lit Narcissa's eyes for a moment.

"Yes, yes," she said irritably, "I suppose Draco hasn't told you anything? I despair over him sometimes."

She exhaled harshly through her nose, though she remained completely unmoved in her ire otherwise.

"You are accompanying my son are you not, you are his company?"

"I-I guess so-I-" stuttered Harry, at a loss as to how he completely lost the thread of the conversation in such a small amount of time.

Narcissa cut across him, her perfectly articulated words slicing through the warm air of the parlour, demonstrating her growing irritation and waning patience with the utmost precision.

"Then I shall enlighten you as to your duties."

Harry never got the chance to interrupt.

"My son is not just some meagre vampire that you get off the street, he has power and influence that goes in regard to his station, _that_ I'm sure you must have at least guessed at by now, and so it is in your description to attend to him accordingly, to act as a combination of servant, confidence and lover, which, I am quite sure, you have been so far inadequate to provide."

Harry could for once, truly only stare. Narcissa, though still retaining almost all of her composure, was most definitely in the throes of a… tirade, the words falling swiftly from between red lips and her eyes were piercing in their ferocity.

"Personally, I do not think you are qualified in the slightest, but, unfortunately, it is not my place to question my son on such matters, and so _I_ must make sure you are up to standard, and please do not gape so, it is most unbecoming."

She finished her speech with another heave of her chest as she breathed in a reflex reaction to her antipathy.

Harry, for several moments was stunned into a shocked silence. Never did he think he would see _this_ woman, say something quite so…blunt.

As the words finally began to trickle in through his mind, and he began to process what the woman had actually said, Harry felt the bubbling anger writhe in his stomach again.

First, Draco seemed to be ignoring him for absolutely no reason whatsoever and being unnecessarily distant, _then_ he was dismissed by seemingly every single person here, and then Narcissa decides to insult him repeatedly for a situation that he had been thrown into barely more than a week ago!

The injustice of the past day and all its frustrations rose to a height. Harry was quite sure that this was a similar level of anger that induced murderous tendencies.

He dearly wished in that moment to be able to shout at that woman, to be able to hurt her equally as much, whether physically or mentally, it didn't matter.

He felt his canines itch as they brushed up against his bottom lip.

However, no matter how much he may desire to suddenly maim this woman, he was acutely aware that this was not possible. But still, there was no way in hell that he was just going to sit there and let her continue to talk about him in such a derogatory manner!

No matter how her words may seem to ring true; why other reason was Draco ignoring him so?

Harry easily overpowered the negative thoughts and let his anger just simmer under the surface and gave Narcissa a smile just as frosty as one of her own, grasping his tea cup in a clenched grasp.

He sat stiffly, but drank the last remains of the bloody contents; purposefully letting the dregs, full of spice, slip over his tongue, uncaring to the burn it caused.

He then set it gently on the table, a dire contrast to his own sentiments.

"I'm afraid, _Narcissa_, that I shall have to take my leave," he said in a cold, persistently formal tone, "as you seem to detest my presence so much, and I can't believe that I would want to hear anything more that you've got to say."

He felt, for the first time, the odd sensation of his fangs clicking as he spoke. The pressure they caused on his lip, descended as they were, was oddly reassuring.

Narcissa said nothing, her detached gaze returning to sweep across her face.

Harry stood up stiffly, inclined his head with the smallest movement possible and strode swiftly out the door before he had the opportunity to hit something. Preferably Draco.

He was the one that brought him here in the first place after all.

* * *

He quickly made his way along the balconies that lined the hall, unfeeling to the splendour sparkling below, and down some steps, to come to an out of the way corridor. 

Here, it was dark, cold and silent, with no one else around.

He sunk to the floor, back to the wall as he stared out unseeing through the grey light of the early hours of the morning.

He brought his knees to his chest and buried his head in them, folding his arms.

Where the hell had Draco pissed off to anyway?!

Why wasn't he here now? What-what had he done to push the other man away?

Harry hadn't really thought of it at the time, their relationship just seemed to…happen. And up until this moment, he hadn't quite realised just how much the stupid blonde had actually come to mean to him. Hadn't realised just how much of a stable presence in his life the vampire had become.

And now…

He thought back to that very morning, when he had woken up in Draco's bed, following some very…intimate activities. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Hadn't…hadn't that meant anything to Draco? Did _he_ mean anything to him?

The man was just so hard to read, and he never told him anything and he was always disappearing and never gave an explanation, and now he just did not seem to care at all…

Yet when he had face that Death Eater two nights ago, Draco had been so mad…

Harry just didn't know what to think anymore. This whole situation was surreal. He was only supposed to go to that house because of…of…Hermione! Yes, Hermione, and Ron, and Ginny, and Luna, and everyone else.

God, if this morning felt like a lifetime ago, then they didn't even feel real at all, as if they were merely figments of his imagination, belonging to a dream only half remembered.

He grit his teeth as he thought of what _did_ seem real at the moment.

The house, meeting Draco, his death, the Death Eaters, a broken window, Severus, hearing about his parents from Sirius and Remus, that woman, the gun, the pain, the blood, the unshakable feeling of loss…

The anger and the hurt and confusion was building up in him like a fountain from a spring. It washed over him in a haze, wrapping around his head and making his vision swim.

He couldn't focus, only on the images flashing through his mind, and of the great frustration mixed with sadness rushing to meet him. He suddenly felt hot, and nauseas, and he just wanted to nothing more than scream at the hurt.

In a vain attempt to relieve it, Harry sunk his throbbing canines into his own forearm, teeth sinking deep, thick, dark red blood spurting out over his skin, into his mouth and over the dusty floor.

He winced, as he felt his teeth scrape over the bone and he let the hot tears fall from his eyes and down to join the soft trickles of blood seeping all over his arm.

He sat there, huddled up in a dark hallway, shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and fangs plunged deeply into the flesh of his arm, unmoving from their position.

He just-he just….

He just wanted Draco.

* * *

**A/N:Oh look! It's me typing away on the next chapter, therefor, you can't kill me...right? Hem ,anyway, sorry bout this, it'll all clear up in no time, and next chapter WILL contain our little sacrifices- I mean 'friends' from Italy, won't that be nice? Hehehehehe...I formally apologise for this chapter, it did not turn out the way I thoguht it would,at all. But if you like some angsting in your lives, then hey, I hope you enjoy it :P**


	19. In the Light of Dawn

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N:Um...hi? I know i said i would update quicker this time, but guess what? School work came up and wow, wad'ya know? All my time just dissapeared. I've written this chapter all in one day, helped along with the constant badgering of my Beta, redbull07, who is _extremely _impatient- be thankful. At any rate, here is the chapter, and i think its alright, i just really need to get the plot moving now, read and enjoy!**

Warnings: Blood about, oh and more Ginny too.

* * *

**In the Light of Dawn**

Draco beat out a fast pace against the polished floors, uncaring to the two women who took one glance of him, and his scowl, and promptly fled from sight.

Suffice to say, that Draco was at this moment more than a little 'unhappy'. Really, if his mood had to be described, it would probably be most amply described as 'pissed off'.

…

At any rate, he was severely irritated. And not just by his last conversation. Everything this evening seemed to rubbing him the wrong way, getting him horribly frustrated.

The fact that he had just spent the last hour of his time, dealing with an exceptionally irritating cousin, a Nymphadora, who did not even hold his _mother's_ maiden name anymore, who had just _happened_ to know he was there that evening, and who decided to try to wrangle some influence over him for something or another.

He hadn't deigned to actually listen to her, bloody ingrate descendants. Her strangely vibrant purple hair had been more intriguing than anything she had to say, which wasn't exactly saying much about her conversation skills.

And now, he had to return to his mother's inquisition and complementary scolding. He reminded himself of _why_ he had tried his best to avoid the woman at all costs for the past century or so. When he had been younger, he had been very appreciative of her guidance, but now, at well over three hundred years old, he most certainly could make better decisions for himself; she was always trying to meddle in some aspect of his life or another.

He growled almost imperceptibly as he made his way through the ballroom and began to climb the stairs, intent on satisfying his mother with pointless conversation and then leaving as soon as possible; it had been both a long night, and an unnecessarily trying one as well.

As he turned down a corridor he felt an unfamiliar sensation of guilt; he had left Harry all alone by himself after all. But Harry wasn't a child either, he didn't need to baby sit him.

Still, Draco would be glad when he could pick up his wayward minuo and return back to England; more pointedly, away from his overbearing mother.

With a sigh he swept back into the side parlour, meant for private discussion, though was more usually filled with the meaningless tête-à-tête of voracious social predators, namely of the female kind.

As he entered, he stopped short, eyes scanning the room, finding it to be very out of place.

His mother, in all her poised grace, was sitting quite innocuously in one of the green upholstered chairs, sipping on some spiced tea; the fragrance was tickling his nose. She had _not_ been there when he had left.

Another passing glance ascertained that, indeed, Harry was nowhere to be seen.

His fingers twitched slightly, as his mood darkened further.

"Mother," he acknowledged with a tight smile. He did, however, remain standing where he was, next to the settee instead of moving towards her.

Narcissa merely made an odd sort of hum in reply, still daintily sipping at her teacup. She seemed determine not to have to meet her son's eyes, seemingly more fascinated with maintaining her immaculate posture.

"Mother, I was not aware that you had finished feeding."

"Yes," said Narcissa in a somewhat distracted tone, fingers once again trailing the edges of her enamel teacup, "it did not take nearly as long as I thought it would."

The fact that she seemed to be talking to herself at the same time as to him, coupled with Harry's uneasy absence, was enough to raise his suspicion.

"Mother, may I ask, as to where Harry is?"

Narcissa finally met his gaze, lifting her heavy head, earrings jingling slightly, "Hmm? Oh, when he and I talked, the poor dear seemed to be a little distressed, I think he may have gone for a little fresh air-he did seem _awfully_ pale."

"And I am sure that you would have had nothing to do with that?" asked Draco warningly; leaving his mother alone with Harry was surely a recipe for disaster.

"Oh no Draco," replied Narcissa frostily, her voice as sharp as ice, "no, that is _all_ down to you."

Draco's eyes flashed silver for a moment, in anger towards the subtle reprimand. Without another word, he left the room, stalking down the corridor with a metaphorical black cloud hanging above his head.

He growled once again, would he ever just be able to get out of here?!

* * *

He paused as the smell of blood began to twirl its way through the air. It was heavy and musky, the distinct flavours of metal and alcohol permeating through it. It also, worryingly, held the scent of his own charmant. 

His previous ire and irritation vanished quickly, images of other vampire's feasting on the new Fledgling, or of Harry getting himself cornered by another Death Eater flitting through his head briefly as he made the final steps round the corner, finding himself in a dark, cold, and rather dusty unused hallway.

The heady scent of blood was permeating the area in a worryingly large amount, causing something akin to worry to settle deep, apprehensively on his chest.

He heard a strangled sob as the scent of blood peaked, causing him to look down.

Draco felt his heart lurch at the pathetic sight of his minuo, hunched down on the dirty floor, covered in his own blood and tears. He felt a stab of resentment, wondering what his mother had said to him, to cause him to get into this state.

Though, at the same time, he was inordinately glad that the spilling of blood was self-inflicted, rather than from other more…heinous activities; one could never be too careful when surrounded by vampires.

He kneeled down gracefully next to the shaking bundle, and with a regretful sigh, reached out and carefully extracted the man's teeth from his own arm, releasing another few trickles off blood.

Harry lifted his head as he felt someone touch him.

Draco felt something catch as he saw the descended fangs, the pearly white marred with dark red, and the usually dark green eyes brightened to an almost feral verdant in colour.

Their eyes locked, both staring at the other, neither moving forward or away. Harry's bleeding had stopped, though the tears were still resolutely sliding down his face.

There was an unearthly silence for a few, tense moments, before it was broken with a harsh whisper.

"I hate you," murmured Harry brokenly, eyes still glistening in the grey light of the approaching dawn.

Draco felt himself go a little colder at the words, the chill seeping into his flesh from the cold stone below his feet suddenly achieving a much finer bite.

"I hate you," repeated Harry once again, sounding desolate in his conviction.

Draco broke their staring first, and gently reached down to disentangle Harry from his uncomfortable position on the floor. Harry did nothing to resist, merely continuing to haunt him with that accusing gaze of his.

When he had finished with that, he silently brought Harry's forearm up for inspection. The fangs had gone deep; the wound was still trickling a little blood onto papery white skin, wider, thicker trails had already mostly started to dry, the colour caking into a more rusty red.

Slowly, Draco bent his head, and started to lick the wound closed, taking care to clean the surrounding stained flesh as well in his ministrations. He was a little startled to find that Harry felt cold, very cold.

Too cold in fact, to ever be considered alive.

For the first time, Draco felt some regret, some guilt over his selfishness; he was the one who decided that Harry shouldn't die yet; he was the one who decided that Harry should become one of the dark creatures of the world-without prior permission. And Harry hadn't said a thing about it. Did he really have the power to decide that for somebody? He was the one who couldn't let Harry go, for reasons that at the time were inherently, incredibly selfish.

Draco frowned slightly. He was not used to feeling emotions like these, guilt, perhaps even some twisted sort of remorse. He had never thought of his own selfish habits, which he readily admitted to, as something for him to be sorry over. It was…disconcerting, not to mention wearisome.

Feeling Harry's cold skin under his hands, looking into those bright green eyes, Draco knew he wanted him. In every way he could possibly think of, or devise. And he also knew, that he would never give that up, strange guilt or no. But, it would be best, he decided to himself, to make Harry just as selfish as himself, and never want to ever let _him_ go either.

With another tired sigh, Draco pulled Harry towards himself, with a soft, "Come here."

Harry let himself be hauled into the embrace, and even turned slightly, so as to fit more comfortably. He buried himself in the other man's shoulder, wanting to push him away, but being too weak to do so.

He shut his eyes tightly, a few more rebellious tears slipping out from between closed lids, small droplets clinging to his eyelashes.

"I hate you," he mumbled once again into the vampires collar.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I _hate_ you, I HATE YOU!"

He ended up shouting, rubbing his already rough throat raw, but he didn't care, nothing really mattered to him at the moment.

But it had done it's job all the same, and with the shout, went the rest of all of his energy; he was just so tired. He only wanted to just sleep, and wake up, and have everything better again.

The tears ran freely once again as he collapsed against the blonde's shoulder, ignoring the soft hushing that Draco was lavishing him with. He finally fell into unconsciousness, with the ghost sensation of Draco nuzzling his hair.

Draco, for his part, was silent as he passed out in his arms. He knew perfectly well what had passed unsaid in Harry's exclamations.

He gave another sigh, and lifted the younger vampire off the floor. Shifting slightly to get him in a better position, Draco quickly stalked off down the hallway.

As he left, it did not once occur to him to say goodbye to Narcissa.

* * *

When Harry woke up, his first impression was of acute disorientation. His head pounded from his earlier breakdown and his eyes felt a little puffy from falling asleep while still crying. 

Not to mention that the light was having a similar effect on his retinas at the moment as if he were waking from the most terrible hangover ever.

His limbs felt weak as well; causing him to flail instead of move over the silk sheets he was currently lying upon. He wondered, in his hazed state of mind, why he was feeling quite so awful; surely he couldn't of done this to himself just from last night?

It was when he collided with the form of a half-awake Draco that he suddenly realised he was experiencing nausea as well, but this one he could identify; it was the same sort one achieved when they hadn't eaten for far too long.

He felt his stomach cramp, and his mouth felt dry; obviously, these were the more unpleasant signs of him needing to Feed.

The only word Harry could use to sum up his situation was with a rather heartfelt: urgh.

He tilted his head slightly on the downy pillow his head was situated on, allowing him to view the drowsy vampire beside him.

He most certainly felt better than he had last night; mentally anyway, and he felt some embarrassment for overreacting so much; he bit into his own arm! For no true reason at all! Cry, yes, that was fine, but to actually hurt himself?!

Harry sighed to himself, remembering that everything usually seemed a little better in the light of the morning. On the other hand, however, he felt no remorse for his little confession to Draco either; he truly had felt as if he hated the vampire last night.

But, Draco had come for him, and had comforted him, and had not pushed him away at his words either. He quietly decided to himself to not bring up last night again, he didn't want to think about it, and it was so much easier to just get along with Draco, and not start a fight with him, which he knew he would if he brought it up.

That wasn't to say, however, that Harry had just suddenly decided to forgive the vampire for his blatant disregard of him yesterday. Oh no, would have his own say about that, but later. Revenge would be better when presented with the best opportunity possible, and besides, at that particular moment in time, Draco smelt really, _really_ nice.

Almost nice enough for him to forget the growing ache in his canines, and the headache and the cramps that were becoming more frequent. He had Fed last night, but he supposed, what with the blood he had lost the previous night, it had accelerated his requirements.

Which, Harry thought, was most inconvenient. With a huff, and determined to ignore the rising discomfort, he snuggled deeper into his pillow, intent on falling back to sleep, unwilling to face sun.

Unfortunately for Harry, it didn't work, the growing pain preventing him from slipping away again. He shifted slightly on the bed, vainly trying to ease the torment through some movement.

Suffice to say, the only help that did, was to rouse Draco from his greatly appreciated slumber. Harry froze as he felt the vampire next to him stir, uncertain just what he could say to the other man, despite his decision not to say anything from just a few minutes ago.

Casting around for something to direct his attention away from Draco, Harry dimly registered that they were back in Draco's bedroom at the house; it appeared that the blonde had taken them back from Paris in the early hours of this morning.

Draco sighed heavily as he saw that Harry was refusing to look at him. He didn't know quite how to deal with this…awkwardness.

After staring intently at his minuo's back for several moments, Draco gave into his impatience and just dragged the smaller man to his side of the bed, unheeding to the small squeak of surprise.

"Harry, I think there may be some issues about your health that need dealing with," Draco murmured, placing his mouth between the soft junction between ear and jaw.

Harry couldn't help the slight shudder that racked its way through his frame at the contact.

"Now, when were you planning on telling me that you needed to Feed, hmmm?"

Harry didn't even try to fathom how Draco could possibly know that he was hungry; it was merely just another one of those unexplainable things about the man.

He did however, try to squirm away from him, feeling a blush made half of anger and half of embarrassment rise as Draco started to nuzzle against his jaw.

"Well, there isn't anything to really do about it at the moment now is there?" asked Harry, becoming more irritated than normal, mostly due to the continuous thumping pain scratching its way through his head to take residence in his temples.

"Of course there is something to do about it, you may be angry with me right now, but there is no need to be purposefully obtuse, _now is there_?"

Stilling in surprise and mouth gaping in indignation, Harry nearly made his escape from the vampire's hold in his anger, but Draco would have none of it, and held on tightly.

"Now, now, no need to be like that, you're just being more irritable because you need to Feed, so…"

And with that quick reply, Draco tilted his head to the side, exposing a length of pale skin and, with a little more gentleness and care, placed his hand on the back of Harry's head and pushed him gently to his neck.

Harry felt his sluggish pulse rate rise as he breathed in the scent of blood, just underneath the surface. He vaguely remembered Draco's comment a few days ago that his blood would be able to sustain him for a short time, but held less nutritional value than if it were human. Harry presumed this little Feeding session would be just to ward off the hunger until something more suitable could be found.

Sighing half in resignation, Harry let himself bite down on the pale skin of the older vampire, canines descending with far greater ease than they ever had before, leaving the action to _almost_ feel completely natural.

Filing away this slightly disturbing piece of information for later perusal, Harry let his eyes slide closed in ecstasy as the blood hit his tongue.

He had forgotten what Draco tasted like; the other blood he had consumed recently had overshadowed it. But, as much as Harry was unwilling to admit it at the moment, Draco did supply by far the best.

It was brief, and Harry quickly pulled away, licking somewhat absentmindedly at the puncture wounds, feeling oddly detached as he completed the process as if he done it every single day of his life.

Harry had to remind himself that this was a good thing; considering that he _would_ be doing it every single day of his life from now on.

* * *

Ginny tapped her pen impatiently against the half-finished crossword that was spread across the cheap plastic tray that folded down from the seat in front. 

She sighed, and turned her head, gazing unfocused out at the sea of white fluffy clouds that covered the entire expanse outside the small round window.

She glanced irritated out of the corner of her eye toward the boy sitting next to her. Colin was fast asleep, head lolling onto her headrest as he snored in the most obnoxious way he could possibly achieve.

If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn that he was doing it to her on purpose, his sole aim to make this flight the most annoying and tedious she had ever had to endure.

In fact, so far, this one was turning out worse than the flight to Tahiti when she was suffering from acute food poisoning and spent most of the eleven hours bent over a bucket.

At least then, Harry had been there to help comfort her, making it a bit more bearable than this point in time. All right, _all_ of them had taken turns to hold her hair back for her, but really, that was completely inconsequential.

Ginny sighed out loud once again, and shifted in her seat, attempting without success to find some more legroom; how she hated economy class!

She finally gave up and twisted so that she was now kneeling on her seat, facing behind her to gaze out over the sea of passengers. She passed over the crowd, until she managed to pick out bushy brown hair and a tuft of red that matched her own.

She was disappointed to see that there were on the complete other side of the cabin, and several rows up from her to boot.

She fell back down into her chair, resigning herself to wait until Luna got back from the bathroom. She let her head hit the back of her headrest, the itchy blue fabric rubbing against her back.

Her fingers began to tap a rhythm out on her armrest, the metal clicking against her painted nails.

She nibbled on her lip, how long till they landed again? The flight was only supposed to be two and half-hours, and she felt sure that they'd been in the air longer than three.

She checked her watch one last time, registering it as only one o'clock, and went back to tapping the armrest.

She supposed she'd just have to wait.

* * *

Harry straightened his shirt, determinably smoothing over any and all creases. He was in one of the bedrooms adjacent to Draco's- it was smaller, and a bit more dusty, but it was private, and much better than the tower room he had first stayed in. 

All that seemed like such a long time ago.

He sighed and dug his much-abused phone out from one of his discarded jacket pockets. He absently marvelled at how it had managed to retain so much battery, or that it worked at all really, considering that it had been thrown out a second floor window and into a shrubbery.

He refused to question it any further however, and distractedly checked if he had any messages; he really needed to get back on track of things.

The only problem being, he wasn't quite sure what these 'things' might be.

All train of thought halted however, when he caught sight of the time and date, located in the bottom right corner of the screen.

Friday.

Friday afternoon.

The day that Hermione, Ron and the others would be arriving.

To come check up on him, and see how far he had got with his assignment.

…

Fuck.

Some miles away, at the nearest airport, Ginny was shepherding her friends as fast as possible through baggage claim.

* * *

**A/N: So, how goes it? I hope you liked it, moving away from some of the spontaneous angst- next chapter going to be fun don't you think? It'll include so many things, it's making me giggle manically just thinking about it :P**


	20. The Second Coming

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N:Heh, been a while hasn't it? I got so invovled in writing other things that I didn't relaise until yesterday that I hadn't updated in over two weeks, and I still had only written half the chapter. However, after much chocolate and some lovely help from my equally lovely beta, I managed to get it done in record time! So, here's a chapter we've all been waiting for. Though you'll probably find the upcoming chapters far more entertaining...**

Warnings: Bloodplay, and of course, Ginny- enough said.

* * *

**The Second Coming**

Things were not looking good, Harry decided. It was four o'clock, and he should be meeting with Ron, Hermione and the others in less than twenty minutes. Draco had secluded himself away with a book in the library, he couldn't even _remember _what he had been sent here to the house do in the first place, which he would have to somehow explain to Hermione, and then there was the tiny little fact that- oh yes, while you were away, I _died_. But it's okay, because now I'm a vampire!

To summarise; things were not looking good.

And lets not start in on the whole fiasco about his 'hot-bipolar-bastard of a lover' either, okay?

So, in short, this all led to Harry being just a little panicked.

At this moment in time, the newly formed vampire was nervously making his brisk way down to the entrance hall, racking his brains on the way for where it was exactly that he was meant to meet them. Things were fuzzy in his head; as if someone had taken his memories from before he met Draco and smudged them before shaking them in a blender before handing them back.

The idea was slightly disturbing, as well as more than a little worrying. Why was he forgetting his friend's faces?

Frowning, Harry slipped out the front door and, hugging his arms about himself, walked a vigorous pace across the lawns.

Now he remembered; he was to meet up with them in the lobby of the hotel where he had first been briefed about what he had to do. He could only fervently hope that that old, absolutely insane man, Dumbledore, was not present at the meeting. He shivered slightly at the memory of the man's luminescent fashion choices.

* * *

Hermione smiled tightly to Dumbledore as he offered some sort of lemon confectionary and declined with a small shake of the head. She sat stiffly in the chair that had been taken from the hotel's restaurant as she gazed bracingly at her fellow companions, determined not to show her immense worry. 

She had a feeling she failed as Ron, who was seated across from her, leaned back on one of the sofa plush chairs and stared at her pointedly.

Luckily, the only other who seemed to have noticed this was Colin, who was alternately flicking her, Ron and Dumbledore increasingly confused looks. Ginny was smoothing down her skirt with precise movements and Luna was absent-mindedly chewing on a cocktail stick. Where she got it from, Hermione had no idea, and quite frankly, she simply didn't care.

Where was he?

He was nearly twenty minutes late already!

They hadn't spoken in day's and-oh! She just felt so _awful_. _She _was the one who left him here, when Dumbledore was clearly off his rocker, and-and-people had died!

Died!

And now Harry was late, wasn't the nearly two-week wait torture enough?

She bit her lip and tried to make the fidgeting with her hands as unnoticeable as possible.

When she heard the lobby doors swing open, she couldn't contain her relief and jumped up to spin around, heart in her chest.

She couldn't suppress the large sigh of relief either.

"Harry! I'm so glad to see you-we all are. It's seems like forever since we were all together, doesn't it?" she asked as she saw Harry make his way up the steps to meet them.

Meanwhile, Ron had stood up, and walked round the table, so as to pat his missing friend on the back.

"There you are mate, safe, sound, and _alive._" The last was directed towards Hermione, who blushed pink and turned her head, mumbling slightly.

Harry merely nodded his head, feeling inordinately uncomfortable, what with his nerves sky high. He glanced mutely at the people seated around the table, ramshackle chairs obviously pulled from various parts of the building.

Luna and Colin were both smiling gently and gave faint waves, having remained sitting. He made no outward sign of his anguish as his eyes passed over the lurid form of Albus Dumbledore, whose appeared to be almost _twinkling_. He paused momentarily as looked at Ginny. She was smiling widely, but there was a certain glint in her eyes that Harry decided he didn't really like. She flicked her sheet of red hair as Dumbledore stood to speak in astonishment.

"What a pleasant surprise Mr.Potter! We were almost beginning to think you weren't coming, but indeed, you're alive! Did you happen perhaps, to get the evidence I need to convince that most stubborn brother of mine?"

Harry was rather impressed he managed not to wince through Dumbledore's little greeting, yet he could not stop the dark humour from bubbling up in the back of his mind, whenever someone had commented that he was 'alive'.

Alive, right, of course.

He cleared his throat slightly, "I'm afraid that I wasn't er, able to get any evidence at all, Mr. Dumbledore."

"Oh dear," said the old man, and he seated himself back onto his purple armchair with a flump.

"Um, yes, you see nothing unusual happened at all while I was staying there you see."

Harry was almost certain he felt his face twitch slightly. Images of the boy he found dead on the floor, meeting Draco; letting the vampire touch him, taste him, Turn him, Severus, Narcissa, Remus and Sirius, and the death of that woman in the alley, all swam in the forefront of his mind.

Nothing unusual indeed.

"Ah," said Dumbledore, rather sagely, "that's probably why you're still alive then."

Luna sighed, before adding in that vague voice of hers, "I suppose sometimes, you're just unlucky."

Feeling somewhat offended, Harry almost missed Dumbledore's enthusiastic agreement of, "Too true….".

Dumbledore sighed heavily, "It seems then, that I shall just have to find another to prove myself to Aberforth then, though I must say, it has taken such a long time already…"

Hermione looked put upon at that, though whether it was due to feelings of guilt on the part of not completing the job, or rather it stemmed from leaving someone else to have to do it, was uncertain. However, what she said next nonetheless made Harry briefly contemplate bashing his head against the nearby wall.

"Now, now Mr.Dumbledore, we said we'd get the job done, I find this situation very unsatisfying…"she paused to ponder momentarily, finger unconsciously moving to rest against her mouth, "perhaps one person was just not enough to cover such a large area? I'm sure if we stay another few days, all of us, then we'd find something for you sir."

While everyone else in the room was appearing surprised, Dumbledore merely took out one of his lemon sherbets and sucked on it musingly.

"I suppose that would be a gratifying solution Miss.Granger. In fact, it's quite a marvellous idea! And I'm sure if there is more than one of you, you should all return perfectly fine, just look at Mr.Potter here! Yes, that suits me perfectly."

As Hermione smiled in response and made arrangements, Ron occasionally adding something, Harry swallowed convulsively. Things were…. not looking good. As in really, _really_ not looking good.

He'd have to lead them to the house, where _Draco _was! How was he going to explain that? Not to mention that they would now be staying until they found something _unusual_. Which, may he add, included himself!

Unfortunately however, he could only smile tightly as the five of them collected their things together and started to shuffle through the lobby and out through the revolving doors, waiting for him to show the way.

Harry desperately tried not to show how anxious he was; he was both pleased and oddly disappointed when he succeeded.

* * *

"Woah," Ginny gasped as they slid through the heavy doors to enter the entrance hall. 

Hermione seemed to agree with the younger girl's statement as she nodded, eyes flickering all over the place, to taken in as much of the sight as possible.

Harry stayed a little ways behind them as they wandered slowly about, examining the mud encrusted marble floor and the rotting banisters, fidgeting slightly and constantly glancing around, as if expected Draco to swoop down at any given moment.

Which, really, the vampire was actually quite likely to do.

While the girls were busy taking in the large hall, Hermione jumping as the wood pigeons that lived in the dusty chandelier fluttered in from the broken window at the top of the stairs, Ron was looking as equally unimpressed as Harry about the surroundings and was gratefully dropping the bags of equipment on the marble floor, not even wincing at the metallic 'clank' it caused.

"So," asked Hermione as she turned around to face him, "Where have you been staying?"

"Oh, just-just up there, in er, one of the towers actually. A bit cold, but it was alright, not so great when it rained though."

Hermione merely nodded and turned away again, this time observing the wood panelled walls instead.

She slowly wandered off to the side of the group, most of which were now in an argument of who carried what up the stairs, though Harry, she noted, simply stood off to the side.

Frowning slightly, she turned away from the sight and bent over to peer closer at one of the finely embellished wooden doors that led off the main hall. She was just about to reach out and grasp the handle when she felt something move behind her. Spinning around, she jumped back in surprise.

"Who the hell are you?!" she asked quickly, startled at the sudden appearance of a man she had never seen before in her life.

Everyone else in the hall snapped their attention to Hermione and the figure that had unexpectedly appeared.

No one heard the almost inaudible groan from Harry, except perhaps, the mysterious figure himself.

"My, my, is that the way you always greet someone?"

Hermione warily appraised the man before her.

The first thing she noticed, was that the man was perhaps one of the most attractive she had ever had the pleasure to see, with silver-blonde hair and deep, dark grey eyes. However, he also seemed to have a strange aura about him, the one a predator might share, which despite the man's gorgeous looks, made her slightly uncertain.

"I'm sorry, you just startled me is all. Um, do you mind but- who are you exactly? I wasn't aware there was anybody else here."

"I believe it is polite to give your name first, Miss…?"

Hermione flushed once again, "Oh, excuse me, I'm Hermione Granger, and these are my…workmates shall we say, " she replied, gesturing vaguely behind her with a waving hand.

"Really?" asked Draco lightly, though a growing smirk could be seen stretching its way across his face.

Just as Draco was about to say something else, Harry, ignoring the questioning looks from his friends, swiftly made his way over to his recalcitrant sire, before he could do any more damage and make things absolutely _impossible _to explain.

"Ah, Hermione, this is Draco, Draco Malfoy. I-we met in the village-bumped into each other in fact, and when he heard that I was staying here, he was kind-kind enough to stay with me," stuttered out Harry, right from the top of his head.

Draco raised one his damnable eyebrows, "Really? I thought it was more _you_ staying with _me_."

"No," said Harry, smiling most painfully, "No, I'm sure that's the way things went."

Thankfully for Harry, the older vampire merely shrugged, making even that simple gesture appear impossibly elegant.

"Malfoy? Didn't the Malfoy family once own this Manor?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

Harry inwardly cursed Hermione for having to know absolutely _everything_, and so conducting her research on projects so thoroughly.

Draco appeared unfazed, and answered with a smile of his own, which though may of put his companions at ease, Harry could clearly the same resemblance it held to that of a shark.

"Yes, they did, I believe it was my father who sold it in the end, so you could say I have a vested interest in finding out what goes on here."

Hermione nodded a little in response, seemingly appeased.

Harry felt as if he were on the verge of a heart attack, if vampires even _could _have a heart attack that is. He was so taught with nervous tension, with fear that at any moment they would all discover everything, that he had the most unpleasant sensation of being pulled apart in several different directions, all at the same time.

Which, unsurprisingly, wasn't a very pleasant experience.

Harry was just about to take advantage of the lull in conversation to direct them upstairs to some rooms, when he heard Ginny speak out.

"So, you're friends with myHarry then?"

The poor brunette inwardly sighed with near hysterical frustration.

Draco narrowed grey eyes at the red headed girl, before giving a disarming smile and gently striding to beside Harry, coming to a halt so close that they were almost touching. When he replied, he addressed Harry, rather than Ginny.

"I think that we're a bit more than friends, wouldn't you say, _darling_?" purred Draco, taking the opportunity to also wrap an arm about his waist.

Harry could only watch with wide eyes at Draco, sure that all the stress had put his mind into shut down.

After a few moments of staring imploringly at a completely unrepentant Draco, Harry very slowly turned in the embrace to see the others expressions, as everything had gone unusually silent.

If Harry hadn't been so nervous, he was sure to have found their reactions amusing.

Ron was obviously stunned by the very thought- he'd never been the most observant creature after all; it must of come as quite a shock, he _was _blinking a rather unhealthy amount.

Hermione on the other hand, though obviously taken aback, seemed to be taking it a bit better, glancing from between Harry and Draco for some sort of explanation.

Luna and Colin remained silent on either side of Ginny, who strangely enough had a glazed look to her.

"Um, Harry?" asked Hermione timidly, "Is, er, is _this_," here she made a slightly awkward gesture in their direction with her hands, "um, true?"

Harry swallowed; Draco still hadn't let go, if anything his grip was getting tighter.

"Yes, yes I suppose-it is," said Harry tightly, feeling his heart flutter like a butterfly. They'd never really talked about his sexuality before; they'd never had to deal with it quiet like this either. It had always remained something sort of left unsaid that they found out at different times, like when both Luna and Ginny had accidentally walked in on making out with Stephan, but well…it just wasn't something they mentioned.

He knew for a fact that Ginny still held the belief he was in an 'experimental' phase or some such rubbish; it didn't exactly help his enthusiasm for actually coming out and saying it- most especially Ron, who came from the same family and had probably never thought about such a thing as gay men in his entire life.

Harry found it worrisome that Ron hadn't said anything yet; he was still appearing rather dazed.

Feeling highly uncomfortable, Harry had never been gladder when Hermione made the suggestion he'd been waiting for all night.

"Oh my, well, we certainly do have a lot to catch up on, don't we? But its getting late, and we've been travelling all day, I think it would be best for us all to head to bed, and sort out everything in the morning, don't you think?"

Her smile was small, and a little strained, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care too much at the moment. Instead he finally wriggled free of Draco's hold and stepped forward towards the stairs.

"Actually, Hermione, I think that's a great idea; tomorrow! Well, why don't I show you where you can stay alright?"

And with that he continued to walk up the stairs, the rest except for Draco collecting their things in a move to follow after him, all still strangely quiet.

Harry was almost at the top of the stairs when he heard Draco call out.

"I'll see you later tonight then, charmant!"

Harry paused for a moment, not bothering to turn around, before he continued as if he hadn't heard, though his back was suspiciously stiff.

Grinning maliciously to himself, Draco stayed standing there for only a moment before stalking off to his study, his eyes glowing silver as he reached the unlit darkness of the corridors.

Back in the entrance hall, Hermione uncomfortably tugged on one of Ron's sleeves.

"Come on Ron," she said softly to the still bemused boy.

"He certainly didn't talk about _that _in his phone calls," mumbled the red head as he was pulled unrelentingly up the staircase.

* * *

It was only a short while later that all lights in the house went off, and Harry got everyone settled in. The rooms were dusty and some of the glass was cracked, but really, they had all been subject to far worse accommodation before. 

Though, while Ron, Hermione, Luna and even the over-excitable Colin had all fallen asleep nearly as soon as their heads hit the pillow, Ginny lay wide awake on top of her musty red covers, feeling far too troubled to fall into the lands of dreams.

The moonlight that was shining in through her window to fall on her hair and the slight scraping of the tree branches outside on the glass merely added to her feeling of discontent.

She simply could not stop thinking about that man that had the sheer audacity to put _his _arm on _her _Harry.

Oh all right, so he wasn't exactly _hers. _Yet.

But still, she had known him for much longer than that _blonde_, so obviously she had certain privileges. Harry couldn't have known this-this Draco person, for much longer than a week!

Yes, she thought to herself, so it is certainly not serious yet.

Adding, she asserted firmly to herself, the fact that Harry wasn't gay in the first place. I mean, all boys like to experiment right? Harry had merely not known how to stop with his…_adventures_, that's all.

However, the blonde man was certainly a problem. After all, he was an incredibly attractive person; no wonder he had been able to lure poor Harry astray when he already confused about his preferences.

There was no doubt in her mind, that when said confusion cleared up, it would be in her favour, and not in the male populace's.

But still, the image of Harry being held so familiarly in an embrace did not sit well with her. Harry had never had a proper relationship before, so she had simply assumed that he would never get into one, _until her_ she reminded herself. However, after years of observing Harry, she could easily tell the way his eyes had softened, even just a little bit, when the other man made his appearance.

And that, more than anything, caused her the greatest distress.

But, it would all work out in the end wouldn't it? Once they had finished the job for Mr. Dumbledore, they would leave, Harry included.

And long distance relationships hardly _ever_ worked out.

Ginny could make sure of that.

* * *

Meanwhile, one floor up, and several corridors over, Draco was indulging in one of his favourite pastimes. 

Some may call it brooding, but Draco rather preferred to think of it as simply an organisation of his thoughts, while secluding himself away from everybody else around him, often accompanied with a wineglass.

At the current moment however, Draco's thoughts could hardly be called 'organised'. He was far to busy stewing in his own rage for _that._

Firstly, Harry had left the grounds all by himself, and without informing him. Then! He had returned with several mortals in tow; which would have been fine if they were for eating. After little observation, he was most irritated to conclude that they weren't.

And they included the Hermione girl, the one who had insisted on Harry speaking to her all throughout the week. He nearly growled aloud at the thought of her; such an irresponsibly overbearing woman.

However, the other female, the one with red hair, had been far worse.

She had held the stupid assumption that she could call _his _minuo hers!

There was no way that Draco, a vampire lord, would let a pathetic mortal girl challenge his claim on what was rightfully his own!

His expression darkened where he sat, on one of the window benches in the abandoned living room, and downed his wine like a shot.

Draco also did not like the thought of Harry trying to get out of his grasp either. He would have to…remind him, of who he belonged to.

It was just as well; he was due for a Feed anyway.

* * *

Harry collapsed on the bed with the largest groan of the night, though this one stemmed from the great relief of it being finally over. 

Well, over for his friends, he was far too awake now that the moon had risen for him to even attempt to sleep right now.

But at any rate, the crisis, if not averted, had at least been put on hold till the morning.

And that was certainly good enough for him.

He stretched out on the bed, giving a noise of satisfaction as he loosened the cruel kinks he had received courtesy of far too much nervous tension earlier that evening. The feel of the silken sheets against his skin as his shirt rode up was a rather sensual addition as well.

It didn't occur to him just how natural it was to go to Draco's bedroom by default, which somewhere along the way, he had termed as his own as well.

Curling up like a contented cat, Harry just as quickly unfurled himself, when he felt a presence appear on the bed next to him, making the mattress dip slightly.

Still laying flat against the sheets, he tilted his head until he could see Draco above him, even if the vampire did look upside down.

"Draco," groaned Harry, "why?" he asked plaintively.

Draco cocked an eyebrow in amusement, "Why?"

Harry nodded, grabbing onto a nearby pillow, "Yes, why did you have to go and say that, _do that_, in front of all my friends, before I even had the chance to tell them myself, do you have any _idea_ how embarrassing that was?"

"Well," Draco smirked leaning down, "I just wanted things to be clear for them, and I knew that unless prompted, you certainly wouldn't do it. You're shy like that, aren't you _darling_?"

Harry groaned in annoyance and swatted at the older vampire, which was unsurprisingly caught by Draco before it had the chance to reach its mark.

Harry wasn't alarmed until he felt his wrist get pinned above his head.

"Dra-?"

His words were cut off as Draco's lips and tongue suddenly covered his mouth.

Harry's resistance to such actions was half hearted at best, and he quickly succumbed, allowing the vampire to have full access to his mouth, and even shifted himself so as to achieve greater contact, letting one hand curl its way to rest on the others lower back, teasing the skin with soft scratches.

Harry couldn't help from gasping slightly as Draco moved to put more of his weight on top of him. As Draco moved to kiss and nip his way down his jaw and then his neck, Harry knew perfectly well what the other wanted.

Hazy memories of past euphoria surfaced and Harry felt his pulse thrum in anticipation, little jolts of pleasure blooming whenever Draco broke through the surface of his skin.

Draco paid particular attention to the area right above the vein, kissing and licking, leaving wet trails wherever he went. It wasn't long until the instinctual urge to bite down became too much and Draco felt the immense satisfaction as his fangs sunk into flesh, blood rushing over his tongue.

From below him, he felt Harry arch in pleasure, accompanied with a cry of delight, hands rising to press Draco even further against his neck, tangled in silken hair.

Draco eventually stopped his drinking, slowly releasing his teeth from Harry, careful to lap up the blood that had spilled over. With a final kiss, Draco gently pulled away to sit up, still straddling the smaller form beneath him.

Harry bit back his whine of disappointment as the vampire moved away, determined not to let Draco know just how much he enjoyed it; the blonde was far too smug about himself as it was.

The slightly amused glint in grey eyes however, told Harry that he hadn't succeeded in hiding it.

Instantly growing annoyed at the self-satisfied look on Draco's face, smirk and all, Harry promptly turned over as quickly and viciously as he could, the action unseating the vampire and sending him tumbling off the bed and onto the floor.

Harry grinned into his pillow as he heard the impact, and the following curses.

* * *

**A/N:It'd been a while since we had some action, and Harry's actions at the end set some of the tone for the next chapter or two- things shall be a lot more relief for a bit, before we get to my long awaited climax!**

**And, next chapter, the gang'll start to get suspicious about Harry, and his new 'lover', as well as some more fun stuff, including Severus, Sirius and Remus (you didn't think i'd forgotten them did you?). Well, hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you're feeling particularly lovely today, you could always leave me a review too, it would be very much appreciated!**


	21. Strange Occurences

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Hey, i'm sorry i couldn't respond to all of you reviews, just know that i greatly appreciate them all, and try to reply as much as possible:) They really make my day. So, without any more, here's the chapter!**

Warnings:A bit of swearing. That's all. Really.

* * *

**Strange Occurences**

It was cold. And hard. The sensation was…strangely familiar, as if he should remember it but only from a dream. It was very much like a dream after all, like being stuck in limbo.

He could both hear and feel his heart beating almost pathetically in his chest, stuttering on, the beat echoing in a hollow manner.

His eyes stared out unseeing, making him sure that they were glassed over. His limbs were sprawled, as if he were a limp doll that had been thrown in a fit of anger and never picked up.

He couldn't tell where the cold came from. He was somewhat aware that it washed up from beneath him, but at the same time it was inside of him too, leeching away at his insides, turning them to ice. And the air, the air he was under was chilling too, cooling his skin.

The hardness was easier to identify, it was the smoothness of the paving stones, a slight dip where the stone had been cleaved jutting into his back, pressing up against him. The force below and the force above, it felt like he was being compressed, not even his lungs could inflate anymore.

He roughly heard himself gasp for breath, like a fish that's been thrown out the water for far too long, loosing all will to continue to struggle on.

He was supposed to run….

Had he stopped, was that why he was laying here like this?

The need to run was fading, along with everything else. Why had he been running…?

He couldn't remember.

He felt a cold caress travel down his neck slowly-it almost tickled. It was a while before it hit the stone and pooled out around him; it was water then?

Was it raining, it didn't feel like rain…

No, no, it was red. The red that made him run…yes that was it.

Wasn't blood supposed to be warm though, why was it so cold? He had liked the cold before-it was soothing.

But now, now he was sure that he hated it.

* * *

Harry awakened with a gasp; eyes wide as he quietly attempted to still the small shivering that wracked his frame, it was making the sheets quiver.

Burying his face into the pillow, Harry was happy to find that he had managed not to make a single sound.

He had nearly completely forgotten about the dreams. He hadn't had one in days, and with all that was going on, he had been adequately distracted to simply dismiss them.

This one had been by far the gentlest, though for Harry, it had been by far the most frightening.

He could still feel the lingering cold it had brought, and the horrible sensation of vertigo remained.

But worse however, was that he recognised that feeling. It was the same he had felt on the night that he had first seen a Death Eater; the day that he had died.

In the dream, or whatever it was, he was dying.

The thought of reliving the experience made him shudder. He inhaled deeply into the pillow, glad when he found that it still carried a remnant scent of Draco on the fine cotton.

Why was he dreaming these things? He didn't understand, they had started even before he had met Draco. He was sure he didn't have an active enough imagination to come up with them.

With a saddened sigh, Harry at length pulled himself up, coming to sit with his knees up, chin resting on folded arms.

Mind clouded with morose thoughts, Harry stared out the window, frustrated to see that morning was breaking already; he wasn't ready to face Hermione and Ron and their questions. He wasn't ready for them to ask about Draco either. And he most certainly wasn't up to facing Hermione's wrath for slacking on the job.

Especially for a job that technically, cost him his life. Not that she knew that of course.

It was several minutes later, when a rather jarring crash was heard from downstairs, signifying that the guests were up, effectively pulling Harry from his stewing thoughts.

He gave a heavy sigh and was just about to haul himself out of bed when a pair of strong pale arms surrounded his waist, pulling him back against a flat chest.

Harry let himself be pulled, but gave no sign or expression as Draco started to kiss his way down his throat, or nuzzled lightly against his ear.

"Mmm, darling, it is far too bright to be up and about just now, let the mortals be for now…"

Draco's normally seducing purr was raised to new heights by the slight huskiness added from sleep, and he gently nipped at Harry's jaw, intent to pull his minuo back into bed.

He was subsequently rather shocked when after initially leaning into the embrace, Harry suddenly pulled away from it; easily breaking the blonde's hold on him and began searching for clothes strewn over the floor, seemingly completely unaffected by Draco's advance.

For the first time in perhaps a century or more, Draco's thought processes came to a complete halt.

Did his prey just…?

The last time that someone had not been distracted by him had to have been….actually, in fact, this had never happened before!

Ever.

When Harry turned back around, he was met with what should have been the most amusing sight the entire week; Draco looking wide eyed- an expression he had never seen on the older vampires face before, at any point.

Yet truthfully, Harry just found it…cute. Draco looked a lot as if he had just missed a step on a flight of stairs.

Unable to resist his newfound advantage, Harry leaned forwards to place a kiss on the immobile vampire's nose and quickly swept out of the room, calling out only, "I'll sort them out!" as a farewell.

Draco was sure he had just missed something rather vital, but for the life, or rather death of him, he couldn't figure out what.

* * *

Bleary eyed and still rubbing the sleep from their eyes, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were bustling around the house, fruitlessly attempting to find something edible for human consumption.

The search had led them to something that Hermione presumed may of once been a kitchen, or perhaps a rather large pantry of some sort; it was light, airy and pleasantly wide windows gave an equally pleasant view of the gardens outside.

It was somewhat of a hazy day today; the clouds were covering the sky in a bright white blanket, though the effect was a little smothering, and the plants had large drops of glistening condensation nestling on them; the window sills were even dripping.

Ginny only spared the scenery a passing glance however, and made straight for the cupboards at the far end of the room.

She wrinkled her nose as she pulled on the rotten wood; the only thing making it look presentable was the light green paint that was slowly peeling off the front.

Her expression turned to a full out grimace as she was met by nothing more than the sweet smell of decomposition and some neglected insect carcasses.

She let the cupboard door fall shut with a muffled slam, and whirled around.

"There isn't any food _anywhere_."

Ron looked over at his sister confusedly.

"Of course there isn't, no one been living here in years. At least," he said, lowering his voice slightly, "nothing's been living here that needs to _eat."_

Hermione shook her head exasperatedly, "That's not what she meant Ronald. Hasn't Harry been staying here for nearly two weeks?"

Ron's eyes widened in comprehension.

"Exactly, I wonder if he hasn't been eating properly?" murmured Hermione to herself worriedly.

"Who's not been eating properly?" asked a voice.

All three occupants jumped and turned to face the door, surprised to see that they hadn't heard Harry come in; he'd never been that graceful.

Ron simply shook his head in reply, but Hermione would have none if it.

"_You_ Harry. If you've been here for so long, how come there is absolutely no food in the entire house, hmm?"

Harry unconsciously took a step back at her accusing glare. Whether it was from apparently not eating, or from the implication that he hadn't been living here, which was really rather plausible, he wasn't sure.

"Erm, well, I guess I just got…distracted. I ate when I was hungry, it's not like I've been starving myself or anything!" Harry defended when Hermione's fierce glare got harsher.

The woman in question clicked her tongue.

"I suppose we'll just have to go shopping later. Now, seeing as you're here, it's an opportune time for you to start showing us around."

"W-what?" asked Harry surprised.

"What do you mean, show you around?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed once again, and both Ginny and Ron took a step back, out of range.

"Well, considering you have been _distracted_, we have some work to do, now don't we?" she asked, her voice purposefully light.

Harry felt his anger spike, and gave her a cool stare of his own.

"What do you mean by me being _'distracted'?"_

Hermione let out a strangled groan of frustration.

"Oh, don't try to play me for a fool Harry Potter, we all saw that…man last night. No need to explain what you were doing instead of working. Now-" she added when she saw Harry about to interrupt, "I know it's not completely your fault, but you can't expect me to really believe that _nothing_ unusual has happened while we've been gone do you? I was here when Dumbledore explained it to us. People have died here Harry, so don't you expect me to believe you!"

Harry simply stared in shock as the bushy haired woman breathed heavily, out of breathe due to her angry outburst. Blinking in surprise, Harry didn't answer. It was all perfectly true of course.

"Now," said Hermione, still breathing harshly through her nose, "let's take a look around the house then shall we?"

She started to walk out of the room, but Harry quickly darted forward, grabbing onto her arm. She immediately stopped at the contact, jerking forward slightly and glancing in shock towards the pale hand holding onto her sleeve, and then towards Harry.

"Harry?" she asked quietly.

Harry gave her a wan smile, before tugging her over to the small circular table, positioned rather nicely in front of the tall windows.

He placed her unresisting form in one of the spindly chairs and took a seat himself across from her. Glancing up, he took note that her brown eyes had softened and were now looking over him in concern.

"Harry, what's the matter?"

He must look worse than he thought, he mused, for her to use such a soft voice like that.

"It's just- it's just that your right," admitted Harry, "there, there have been things that have happened here."

It was now perfectly clear to him that he couldn't keep everything silent, or at least, he had to give Hermione something. If he did, she would be less likely to dig any deeper. He didn't have to lie; just omit certain aspects of the truth.

He never once occurred to him to actually tell her, to be truthful with his friends about his new condition of acute vampirism. They merely couldn't find out; simple as that.

Bad things would happen if they did, surely.

Unbidden, Harry let tears gather in his eyes, just enough to make them glisten slightly.

Hermione's frown increased and she put a hand onto his in a way to comfort.

"What happened Harry?"

Harry shook his head, "I-I don't want to talk about it. You don't need to know. It's just that," he bit his lip in hesitation.

"Go on," encouraged Hermione softly.

"If-if anything were to happen, it would happen at night, I can assure you of that," whispered Harry.

Hermione nodded receptively.

He wasn't lying, not at all.

"And I really-really don't think its a good idea to just go off and explore on our own you know."

"So what should we do?" questioned Hermione in soft curiosity.

"Just-just…" said Harry just as gently.

"Yes?" said Hermione, almost eagerly.

Harry gave a sharp sigh of frustration, as if he didn't know how to express himself.

He gave Hermione a hard stare.

The look didn't make her shiver. She wasn't lying.

"Hermione, you-you really shouldn't have made them stay here," he finally murmured softly.

Her eyes went as wide as a frightened deer's, "What?! Why?"

Harry merely shook his head.

"Never mind," he muttered in reply.

Behind them, Ron shifted uncomfortably, he and Ginny left out of the conversation. Both red heads gave a sidelong look to the other and determined the same thing.

"Well then mate, if you say we shouldn't go wandering around, I'll take your word for it. Still, we have the rest of the day ahead of us, so what do you think we should do?"

Hermione looked distinctly disgruntled but finally nodded along in acceptance to the idea.

Harry swallowed as he saw three heads turn his way, waiting for _him_ to make a decision.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

"Er…"

"I have an idea."

All four occupants of the room jumped simultaneously, even Harry. Looking over his shoulder he was unsurprised to see it was Draco who had managed to seemingly appear out of nowhere.

"Oh? And what is your _fine_ suggestion?" asked Harry irritated, he was really beginning to get annoyed at how that stupid vampire could still sneak up on him like that.

Draco smiled pleasantly, probably perfectly aware of what his darling charmant was thinking.

"Well, I was thinking that perhaps you should show your most _wonderful friends_, what exactly has been _distracting _you so much."

"Draco!?" shrieked Harry, feeling scandalised as a blush made its reappearance, pink dusting over his cheeks.

His infuriating sire raised an amused eyebrow in reply.

"My, what are you _possibly_ thinking of, that is making you blush so exquisitely like that? I would absolutely _love _to be able to recreate the effect."

Harry spluttered once again.

"I was merely referring to that found godfather of yours- I have absolutely no idea what you were thinking of," he said smoothly.

"Oh," said Harry softly, feeling the pink flush to red in embarrassment. But really, was it his fault, considering that Draco was always flirting so God damn much?!

"Godfather?" asked Ginny in confusion.

Jerking away from his thoughts, Harry saw equally quizzical looks directed his way from Ron and Hermione too.

"Well," said Draco, sounding disgustingly satisfied, "I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time visiting him."

"Huh?" asked Harry intelligently, "I don't even know where he lives!"

"Of course you do, he left his address when he left Severus's, remember?"

Harry shook his head slowly, face blank with incomprehension.

Draco sighed, perhaps a little dramatically, and pulled a small piece of paper out of nowhere.

Too used to Draco's little quirks, Harry simply roughly snatched it out of the blonde's hands and inspected it.

"Oh."

Draco felt his smirk momentarily melt into a smile at the little word, reminded of all the other times when his little charmant had said the exact same thing; always looking absolutely adorable when he did so.

Just like now in fact.

With a last fleeting glance over to Harry, Draco let himself saunter out of the pantry, leaving his minuo to deal with the situation.

He did say he would deal with it after all.

Still, he thought somewhat mournfully, he really didn't like having to usher Harry out of the house in the process, but alas, he had things to do.

It would probably be good for the brunette anyway.

* * *

"So, um, where are we going again?"

Harry gave a sidelong glance to Ginny, who was huffing slightly in an effort to keep up. She had a scarf, no doubt knitted by her mother, wrapped around her neck, and her red hair was getting blown in various directions by the wind.

Frowning slightly, Harry turned around to see the rest of them appearing rather windswept as well.

"We're going to visit a man called Sirius. We met up purely by accident, but as it turned out, he was my godfather," admitted Harry.

Her eyes sparkled at the knowledge gifted on her, and she muttered a small "Oh," from beneath the wool of her scarf. Her cheeks were flushed red and she kept sniffling slightly as they walked briskly through town, as her nose was running.

The others were really in the same sort of state. He himself didn't feel the cold at all. In fact, the most uncomfortable thing for him was the bright light, which was reflecting rather painfully off the white blanket of cloud; it made his eye's sting.

Harry consciously slowed his place slightly, as to let the others catch up when they turned onto the corner of Vinegrove Road.

Hermione caught up last, along with a hardly winded Ron, clutching a stitch in her side.

"For God's sake Harry, why did we have to walk so fast?"

Harry merely shrugged, trying to cover up his embarrassment; he supposed he had just gotten used to the speed he now had, even at walking pace.

"Well," she huffed, as she straightened up, "this is the right place, what's the number?"

Harry felt a stab of irritation at Hermione for taking control like this, as if it were no more than another one of their little _'expeditions'_ but her brown eye's were expectant, and so he dutifully pulled the by-now-rather crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.

Smoothing it out, he said, "Its number forty five, so it should be on the right hand side."

Hermione nodded smartly, and glanced around, before her gaze alighted on the correct number, and she promptly marched up to the front door. She was almost acting as if she were about to give an interrogation.

She paused on the second step, and deftly turned to face Harry, who had been following after her in bemusement.

"Now Harry, I may sound a little harsh, but I'm sure you know that I just want to make sure that he's not going to disappoint you, we all know how lovely the Dursley's were after all. You understand, don't you?"

Harry stared at her, noting distantly the warmness behind the steely glint in her gaze. He really couldn't do anything more than nod, slightly disturbed with the fact that though such an action in his defence should have usually warmed him to the core, he now felt practically apathetic. What the hell was going on?!

Before he could dwell anymore on the subject however, Hermione had already rung on the doorbell, and was waiting impatiently for an answer. Harry half hoped that Sirius wasn't home, it was unfair to him to have to deal with Hermione so early in the morning, especially with no prior warning. The rest of the group stood behind them, all a safe distance from Hermione.

The door swung open and the warm countenance of Remus opened the door. His amber gaze travelled over the various young men and women on his doorstep, all of whom he had never seen before, giving him hard looks, when he saw a slightly uncomfortable Harry standing off to the side, smiling apologetically.

"Oh, hello Remus, these are, ah, some friends of mine…Sirius wouldn't happen to be in would he?"

Remus blinked in slight confusion, before he decided against addressing any of the others, and decided to just speak to Harry directly.

"Why yes he is, he can be quite lazy sometimes, there's really no where else he would be in the mornings," said Remus, sounding oddly resigned.

He appeared tired, Harry thought, but then again, dealing with Sirius all day long would probably do that to a person. Being a werewolf also most likely didn't help the bags under his eyes. He vaguely wondered when the next full moon was, and was a little startled to hear a small voice from the dark recesses of his mind say, _'a week tomorrow'_.

Creepy.

Harry smiled on the outside. "Yes, that seems like him, even though I've only met him once," he laughed slightly, and he paused to give Remus another remorseful look, "I'm sorry to disturb you so unexpectedly like this, but would you mind if we came in, I'm afraid that they want to, er, talk about some things."

Remus raised a questioning eyebrow, but Harry merely shook his head.

The werewolf gave the others another appraising stare, and upon seeing Hermione's fierce gaze, nodded.

"Of course, I'm sure Sirius would be delighted to see you all, though I am slightly puzzled how you know our address."

Harry felt himself twitch, that bloody, fucking, stupid _vampire_! When he got back, he and Draco would be having a _long_, serious talk about…well! About everything!

"Yes, well," started Hermione, "when we heard that Harry had found his Godfather, we just couldn't get away with not meeting him you see."

Harry nodded weakly.

Remus gave a small smile, the kind that could warm cold coffee, and stepped back to allow them entrance.

"Sirius is in the living room, I'll just make everyone some tea shall I?"

Hermione simply breezed past him and Ron, as he walked in after her, gave a small noise of affirmation, rushing after the bushy haired girl.

Harry quickly hurried after her; no need to leave Sirius to her tender mercies so soon.

He was still in the hallway when he heard voices.

"Mooooo-nyyyyyy, who was at the door!" called out Sirius.

"Oh, hello, I suppose your Sirius Black then?" came Hermione's stern tone.

"Er, yes, yes I am, who are you?"

"Oh, Hermione Granger, one of Harry's friends."

"Harry's friends eh? I suppose you're here about the whole vam-"

Harry had heard enough, and he darted into the living room and called out loudly, "Hey Sirius, sorry to just come in like this, _they _insisted you see. They only arrived last night, we've been work partners for a long time you know- they had another job elsewhere."

The living room was at the front of the house, the large windows facing the front garden; it was a cosy setting, with plenty of somewhat tattered, but highly comfortable furniture and clean, cool colours. In was…homey.

Sirius frowned at him in confusion, grey eyes swimming in bewilderment.

"Job?"

Harry gave him an uneasy smile. "Yep-job. We never got round to discussing why I was here in the first place did we?" he asked nervously.

Just then, Luna, Ginny, Ron and Colin entered the room as well. Siruis's eyebrows both rose.

"Well, what's this then, the inquisition?"

Ron snorted behind his hand, for indeed, that was an apt description for Hermione when she was chasing answers, but he quickly smothered it when he caught the severe glare she shot in his direction.

Harry, in desperation for something to do, settled himself on one of the two sofas and made rapid inclinations for the other to do the same. Luna breezed past the coffee table to take a seat next to him, cutting off Ginny, who then gloomily sat beside Luna. Colin and Ron sat on the other while Hermione remained perched on the armrest, sizing Sirius up like a hawk.

Harry wasn't surprised that the man began to get uncomfortable and when he glanced at Harry questioningly, all he could do was mouth the words, "I'm so sorry," and then stop drawing attention to himself.

"So, you're Sirius, Harry's _Godfather_ then?" sated Hermione.

Poor Sirius couldn't get more bewildered if he tried.

"Yes," he said slowly.

"I see," said Hermione primly, "and would you like to inform us how exactly you came to be Harry's godfather, and where you've been all this time?"

Ron winced in sympathy.

"Look, it's a long story," said Sirius, finally taking some grasp of the situation, "and while I find it very commendable that you seem to care so much about Harry, I really don't think-"

"Sirius, I think it would most likely be much quicker if you just tell her what she wants. Just explain what you said to me alright?" interjected Harry, seeing Hermione's eyes narrow dangerously.

"Exactly what I said?" asked Sirius surprised.

Harry's eyes widened slightly, but he was thankfully saved as Remus chose that exact moment to come in with a tray of tea, and started to pass round cups. Colin jumped up to help, to which Remus smiled gratefully.

Using the distraction, Harry took the opportunity to grab onto Sirius's arm and pull him out of the room. Only when he was sure that they were out of earshot, hidden behind the doorjamb in the kitchen, did Harry speak.

"I'm so sorry about this Sirius, Hermione's just a bit-"

"I don't mind," said Sirius quietly, "its good to have friends like that, I'm glad for you."

Harry gave him a weak smile, his mind flitting back to his earlier thoughts on the front steps.

"They're much better for you than-than that vampire," continued Sirius gravely.

Harry felt his mouth tighten, and something in the back of his mind hiss threateningly. Yes, Draco could be…infuriating, but well…at this point, Harry truly couldn't imagine what a life was without him. The man was his sire; the thought was unthinkable.

"Yes, well, that's not for discussion today," said Harry through clenched teeth. Sirius frowned darkly, but didn't comment.

"Just, they don't have a single idea about me being a-," he paused, biting his lip, "about me being a vampire, or anything at all, so don't say anything about that okay?"

Sirius folded his arms, "Well, that leaves quite a few holes in my story, that they're demanding me to tell."

"Please Sirius," pleaded Harry.

Sirius huffed gruffly; in a way that Harry somehow knew was agreement.

"Fine, I'll just use the same story that we had to give the police; its not as if they would believe what _really _happened."

Harry smiled gratefully, though the only sensation he really had was the way his features moved in order to do it.

They both went back to the living room, where Hermione was stirring her tea with a teaspoon with keen ferocity.

Sirius laughed nervously and took a seat on the sofa, happily sinking down into it by a couple of inches.

"Now, let's see, where to start…"

* * *

The entire story of Harry's parents and Sirius and Remus's relationship with them took several hours, what with all the interjections, mainly from Hermione and Ron, and the odd strange comment from Luna- which usually took a lot of explaining form their side. However, by the end of it, Hermione was appeased. It was then that Ron started asking _more_ questions, that all of them quickly lunged onto, stories about Harry's parents in their youth, or about Harry before the '_incident'._

These things didn't interest Harry nearly as much as he thought they would have. The discussion left him feeling more uneasy, rather than satisfied and he could only pretend to smile and nod, and laugh when they other's did. His mind felt oddly detached from his surroundings, and he was lost in thought, not paying much attention to what Sirius, know thoroughly enjoying himself, was saying.

He did however, feel an odd longing to go back to the house to seek out Draco. No particular reason why, but without the older vampire's presence, he was beginning to fell…itchy to get back to him. The thought agitated him, and made him pay even less attention to his surroundings.

Hermione meanwhile, had also become distracted from the conversation, though only briefly. Something out of the corner of her eye had snagged her attention like a fish line. Harry had struck her as been acting quite strangely ever since they had been reunited last night, but this time, it was something else. The door to the living room had been left afar, and on the other side laid a full length mirror, glinting through the foot wide crack, nothing strange really about it.

Apart from the image it reflected however. She couldn't quite put her finger on it; it showed the sofa, and the carpet, and the corner of the coffee table…She glanced over to where it faced. Only to find Harry sitting there, a somewhat vacant smile on his face as he nodded along.

Frowning, she looked at the mirror, which didn't reflect Harry at all. How peculiar…

Perhaps it was to do with the light refraction in the room or something, after all there was no other reason why Harry should suddenly no longer have a reflection, was there?

She dismissed it from her mind, and tuned back into what Sirius was saying.

"And then, he went down on one knee, wilted flowers in hand and…"

Unknown to her, Ron had also noticed the mirror behind the door, and who wasn't reflected in it. And he couldn't pass it off as 'light refraction'.

* * *

The sky was darkening by the time they were ushered out the house and onto the front steps, they had ended up staying for lunch, and by now it was late afternoon.

They bid their farewells, and Harry felt indescribably guilty when Ginny's sounded warmer than his own, but Remus and Sirius seemed to understand, which really just perturbed him all the more. Was this sudden loss in feeling to do with being a vampire? And why didn't he feel this way about Draco?

They slowly ambled down the road, Harry lagging behind with more than adequate frustration. He really wanted to shepherd them back to the house before the dwindling daylight gave way to the darkness, but all of them, even Luna, insisted on going shopping, as apparently they desperately required food for sustenance.

This had once again made Harry feel troubled. He had his own food requirements to attend to at some point in the not too distant future, and those needs would be rather more difficult with Hermione and Ginny breathing down his neck at all times.

Not to mention that'd he'd need more than just a quickie from Draco next time too. There was always the chance that he may feed off his friends by accident. He'd never lost control before, but he was sure it wouldn't be pretty if he did.

Just another thing to talk to Draco about.

And wasn't _that_ a long list?

Harry sighed to himself, and walked on, hoping that he would manage to get them all back safely, without a reappearance of any violent spirits or sudden deaths.

The wind picked up, and the leaves rustled.

He had a bad feeling about the coming nights.

* * *

**A/N: My beta said it was short. I suppose it is, considering its over 5,000 words! Sigh. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter. Next chappy, things start to get more dangerous, especially as i'm preparing a death (no, it isn't Harry or Draco- stop having angst induced heart attacks). Right, so wait for that, and maybe review for me too? I do love them so very much, i'll make even more effort to reply to all of them this time, promise!**


	22. A Night's Sweet Caress

Disclaimer:I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N: An update! Yay! And, truthfully, i really like this chapter- it marks the beginning of super hot vampire-ness. And you thought i would leave without it. Anyway, i hope you enjoy this chapter, things are feeling going in for the plunge :) And don't forget to review too, i enjoy receiving and reading them so much, i think its illegal somewhere (big thanks to all my reviewers!)**

Warnings: Slash, minor rape, character death (can anyone see where this is going?)

* * *

**A Night's Sweet Caress**

Ginny hummed happily to herself as she put away cereal packets. Not that she particularly liked cereal per say, they had only actually bought it due to Ron's ardent and irreplaceable love for them. Personally, she preferred toast.

She carried on with her mumbled tune as she crumpled up the empty carrier bag and shimmied past Hermione to throw it in the bin. She then daintily picked up the last bag and started to rearrange their contents onto the surrounding shelves.

They had spent longer than she had thought arguing in the local supermarket; over three years together and they still had major disagreements over food consumption. The thought alone nearly made her giggle. In the end they had spent well over two hours there, before being ushered out and back to the house in record time by an oddly jumpy Harry, who had kept glancing back and forth in the dark, as if trying to see ahead for something. It had been really rather odd.

In fact, she thought with a frown on her face, pausing while holding a pack of carrots, Harry had been exhibiting quiet strange behaviour the entire time they had been back together. She wondered if something was wrong; was he ill? He did look unhealthily pale, especially during the light of day. Or maybe-maybe it was to do with that…Draco person, the one who was confusing Harry so much. She really had to talk to that blonde- it wasn't right for him to confuse Harry like this with perverse thoughts- in her mind the time had come for Harry to stop with his 'experiments'. He just needed not to be…distracted anymore, and who wouldn't be distracted with a man like that around?

She even admitted to herself that Draco was very attractive, breathtakingly so, and _she _was very much in love with Harry. She peered wistfully out the darkened window as she leant against the counter, recalling the fateful day she first met Harry; it had been the summer, and Ron had brought him round for the first time. She'd made a complete idiot out of herself, obviously, but from that day on-she knew.

She sighed to herself and finally put the carrots away, mindful of the way Hermione neatly stored everything away next to her. She belatedly realised that the other girl was finished.

Glancing around, Ginny idly contemplated where Harry had run off to. He had disappeared nearly as soon as they were through the front door, not even bothering to explain where he was going. Perhaps he was going to break it off with Draco? That would certainly explain his vacant stares; he was so nervous and worried about hurting the blonde's feelings and so had been meticulously thinking about how to do it all day.

Perhaps-perhaps he even thought of her?

Trying valiantly not to get her hopes up, she bit back the smile she desperately wanted to give, and went off to find Luna- she was always a good soundboard for ideas and discussion, even if all she would receive would be ever stranger answers. But Luna was like that you see, always talking about Nargles, Crumple Horned Snorkacks and a most strange fixation about Harry actually _not_ being straight at all. A strange girl to be sure.

Ginny resumed her humming as she leisurely pulled herself up the stairs, intent on finding Luna.

* * *

Harry entered their bedroom with purpose. He had not seen Draco since that morning, and Harry had firmly decided that it was high time for the older vampire to actually _explain _things; and perhaps even to include him in whatever he snuck of to do all the time, magnanimously labelling it as 'business' all the time. 

Harry was truly sick of the blonde's vanishing acts; he wasn't going to allow the other to do it again if he had his way.

And right now, Harry was a vampire on a mission.

Fully prepped and ready to issues his demands, which ahd ben simmering away for days, Harry was forced to draw up short when he reached the bed.

There was Draco all right; somehow managing to look elegant even sprawled out as he was on they bed; obviously sleeping. Harry couldn't deny that Draco, frankly, looked absolutely ravishing while he slept. For a dark creature, he was particularly talented at appearing like an angel.

He was certainly unearthly beautiful that was for sure.

And at the moment, with Draco laying so wonderfully _vulnerable _like that…well, Harry felt an very playful, quite literally, urge appear as if from no where. His eyes glinted and help the rather devilish smile from appearing on his face.

Peering at Draco with half lidded eyes, and baring restraining his pent up amusement, Harry gently crawled up onto the bed, silky locks of hair falling to drape over his eyes.

Gently taking Draco's pale wrists, he pinned them to the sheets, while crawling up to settle himself right on top of the other, Harry straddling his waist, chest to chest. Harry continued staring down languidly at Draco as he started to stir at the added weight, dark grey eyes fluttering open.

"Harry?" asked Draco softly, voice husky form waking. Harry shivered at the tone.

"Good evening Draco," purred Harry, the strong urge to play never dropping, instead now tinged with exhilaration. He had never openly sought intimacy with Draco before, and at the moment he could possibly fathom _why. _Draco was practically sex incarnate, so why shouldn't he be enjoying himself?

Draco, perhaps due to his still rather hazy state of mind, wasn't aware of his position, pinned by Harry to the bed until he tried to sit up. He blinked in surprise when his movement yielded little success.

Glancing down, Draco became infinitely more awake, as he noticed his lovely charmant's location.

"Good evening indeed, darling," whispered Draco back in reply.

"Mmmm, it _is_ a good night isn't it? But do you know what would make it even better?" murmured Harry huskily, lips brushing the blonde's ear. He felt a rush shoot through him as the older vampire shivered in response.

"Oh, I think I may have an idea," muttered Draco back, just as softly.

Harry smiled seductively, tilting his head to the side slightly, letting his glossy black locks flick over his pale skin.

"I know you do," and with that, Harry punctuated his remark by shifting his hips, putting more pressure on Draco. Harry was incredibly satisfied with himself when he felt the hardness pressing into his stomach.

Harry lent himself down further, making Draco groan slightly, which was quickly silenced as Harry brushed their lips together softly; tauntingly.

"But I'm afraid, that wasn't what I had in mind…" he uttered, lips hitting on the syllables, before he pulled himself back, sitting up, and in the process moving back a little so as to be completely atop of his sire's arousal.

He couldn't restrain the grin when he heard Draco hiss from beneath him.

Still in his mischievous mood, and finding great fulfilment from the annoyed glare Draco sent his way, Harry let his tongue flick out over his reddening lips, revealing his descended fangs in a flash of pearly white.

"Now, now Draco, no need to look at me like that, I just have some questions that I would be delighted for you to answer…"

"Well, ask away darling, it seems as if I'm at your mercy," said Draco, observing Harry through a mixture of confusion, amusement and lust.

Harry shifted his hips again over Draco's lap, eliciting another hiss, before he pretended to ponder.

"Well, for one I would absolutely _love _to know what you're going to do with our most delightful guests…"

Harry never even considered that these people he referred to as annoyances during his little tease, were actually his own supposed friends, and Draco didn't call him on it, only shuddering slightly as Harry rolled his hips once more against him. He couldn't deny the immense attraction Harry was stirring, playing with him like this as he held the verdant glint in his eyes of an aroused vampire.

His little Fledgling was all grown up.

And Draco had never been more glad of his decision to keep Harry be his side.

"Well, I'm sure they won't be a problem, as you forbid me, quite vindictively, not to eat them, I suppose I shall merely have to let them stay- for now. If they aren't gone by the end of the week, I may have to use measures I truly don't wish to…" Draco sighed mockingly, trying his best to sound put upon.

Harry scowled in reply, and unconscious pout forming, and thrust his hips down with greater force than previous, causing Draco to gasp and buck backwards into the bed sheets, fists clenching where they were still held in place by Harry.

"They can't find out about me," said Harry quietly, "and also, when they do finally leave, they will be expecting me to leave with them."

Draco's eyes swirled a dark grey and his gaze as it fixed upon him was intense.

"Well, neither of us will allow that now will we darling," purred Draco dangerously, "and you shall merely have to politely decline their assumptions."

Harry couldn't stop the shiver from taking a hold of him as he felt the dark, smooth voice wash over him.

Harry sighed contentedly as he breathed in deeply, only using the action to inhale the dark, seductive scent Draco exuded. Strange how he'd never really noticed how lovely it was before, even when he noted it when wearing the other's clothes.

He bent down to rest himself lightly against Draco's chest, feeling the defined muscle that lay beneath. Exhaling the redundant air, he left some lazy kisses up the pale skin of Draco's neck and across his jaw, revelling in the feel of smooth skin under his lips.

He felt Draco twitch beneath him, making him smile wickedly against the man's skin.

"There's one other problem I'm afraid," stated Harry, as he moved his kisses to trail idly across the other's face.

"Oh?" whispered Draco, eyes half lidded, happily accepting the languid pleasure as Harry pressed himself against him.

"Mmmm," he replied, "you may be able to procure your own meals in that _mysterious _manner of yours, but I'm afraid I am not yet bestowed with your _fine _skills. I'm going to need to feed soon, and you're going to get it for me," he demanded silkily.

"Why of course darling, how could I ever deny you anything?" answered Draco, amusement colouring his voice. When did his little charmant get so demanding? It was really rather cute. Just like that way he thought that Draco couldn't easily break free from his grasp.

"Good," said Harry huskily, starting to nuzzle as he left soft kisses on the corner of the vampire's mouth.

Draco merely gave a contented, "hmmm," in response, before twisting his wrists around, breaking Harry's grasp in the process, making Harry growl drowsily at him.

Smirking, Draco merely drew the younger vampire closer to himself, not tired, but perfectly content to simply bask in the company.

Harry let himself settle against Draco's chest as the other began stroking his sleek dark hair, practically purring in his mixed state of languid arousal and lulled contentment.

This, he was sure, was where he was supposed to be. The thought was infinitely calming.

He only hoped the house guests wouldn't intrude for a while; the quiet caress of the night was far too wonderful to be disturbed.

* * *

Harry sighed blissfully as he felt the hard pounding of the water slap his bare back, the hot water warming his chilled skin delightfully. He gave a final lazy shake of his head to remove the last vestiges of shampoo and reached out for the shower gel. 

Oh, how he had been dying for a proper shower for days!

He had been lying peaceably with Draco for several hours when the vampire had regrettably informed him that he had to go visit Severus. Harry had just waved him off, still feeling far too relaxed to get too upset and as Draco had left, he had immediately brightened when he remembered what all three girls had insisted on buying earlier that day. He hadn't been able to properly wash out his hair for what felt like forever, how Draco managed to retain such a gleaming lustre to his air without conditioner was a mystery.

Harry felt it was worth having the other people in the house, simply for the toiletries they brought with them. He would have to insist on procuring them as a permanent fixture in future.

However, showering had become a rather strange experience at times, what with the great difference caused between the heat of the water and his own, far too cool flesh. The fact that he had the body temperature that could be referred to as 'lukewarm' was just yet another thing a long list of changes he had to adjust to. Though by now, he thought he was pretty much familiar with most of them.

He groaned in delight as he began to massage the suds into his soft, pale skin. He was quite sure that he could happily remain in here forever.

Meanwhile, Ginny was making her way up the stairs, still vainly attempting to find Harry. She had been searching for nearly two hours now, and was beginning to become frustrated. Mostly because within minutes she had managed to get herself lost. She was beginning to think that Harry had told them to not wander off alone simply because of the network of confusing corridors and winding staircases.

Considering the house was also in a general state of disrepair didn't make her feel any better either, who knew when a ceiling might collapse? However, she hoped that now she was heading in the right direction, the surroundings here appeared to be a bit more…clean. And sturdy.

Taking this as a good sign, she gently meandered her way up a staircase, hand trailing over the banister, happy to find that _this _one was covered in dust.

Where could Harry have run off to? It was almost as if he were hiding…

She felt a frown twist its way across her face. Now that she thought of it, she hadn't really seen Draco around either, not since that morning. What was he up to?

Ginny halted mid-step, eyes going wide in horror as she gasped with a horrible revelation.

What if- what if that Draco person was trying to _seduce her Harry?_ He certainly looked like the type.

Filled with renewed energy, Ginny rushed up the last remaining steps, intent more than ever to find Harry and save him from the grasp of that despicable blonde. Just because Harry didn't want to be with him anymore, didn't mean he had any right to try to trick him into thinking he was gay!

Finding herself on an unfamiliar landing, Ginny paused briefly, just enough to register puzzlement. This part of the house was in far better condition than the rest of it; it even had carpets.

Frowning slightly, and wondering why they weren't allowed to have rooms here, it the one place that looked habitable, she glanced about, eyeing the several doors with some apprehension.

She was just about to backtrack and leave, feeling oddly out of place when she heard the tell tale pounding of a shower. Was that Harry?

Turning to go down a small hallway, she found a door slightly ajar, light and steam creeping out into the corridor.

Images of Harry, in the shower, naked, flashed before her eyes, and made her hesitate. She didn't want to walk in on someone else but if it were Harry in there…. and she'd been looking for him anyway. She swallowed, and gently eased open the door, glad that any sound was masked by the sound of the water.

She stepped inside, and simultaneously blessed and cursed the heavy steam that permeated the air. Harry had always liked hot showers, yet at the same time didn't allow her to see anything.

Pulling forth on her courage, she moved forward, and from the mist, appeared a figure, head bowed as water cascaded down its back, soapy suds slowly being washed away over taught skin.

Ginny felt her breath hitch, and her face flush. Harry, her Harry was standing there, right before her, completely naked, with water running down him, sliding down hair, the curve of his neck, dancing its way across the ridges of his chest and then further, past muscle and then to-

She absently let her tongue flick out to lick her lips, eyes fixed.

How long had she been waiting for him? Ten years…? Longer? And now, here he was, no more than a few steps away, completely within her reach.

A ridiculous thought came into her head. This, this was finally an opportunity for her! A great opportunity that she would be a fool to pass up. She finally had the chance to get rid of all this experimentation nonsense for good, show him what a true woman felt like.

Her gaze latched onto the pale hand reaching out to switch off the water.

Yes, here was her chance; to show him how much better she was than that Draco could ever be. She took a shaky step forward. The time had come for Harry to come to his senses and see that she was the only one for him. She took another, more bold step forward, watching with rapt attention as Harry snagged a towel without looking from behind the shower curtain.

As he stepped out of the shower, idly wondering when Draco would be back, Harry was never more surprised to see Ginny Weasley no more that two inches from his face, a strange glint in her eyes.

Jumping back slightly, restricted from too much movement as he was trapped with the shower behind him, he wondered furiously why he hadn't detected her entering the bathroom, while simultaneously cursing himself for not locking the door.

"Ginny," he said, somewhat hesitant about the look in her face, "what are you doin-"

He was cut off from saying more however, by the sudden intrusion into his mouth.

Wha-?

Eyes bright with shock, and stiff with incredulity, Harry felt himself be pushed back into the shower door as Ginny pushed herself flush against him, her hands holding a surprisingly strong grip on his arms. He remained there, unresisting for a few moments, as eh tried to process just what the fuck was Ginny doing when he felt her tongue begin to move more fiercely in his mouth.

He choked, feeling her tongue more as a slippery, slimy and utterly _unwelcome _presence. He instantly attempted to free his arms to pry her off him when he was distressed to realise that Ginny had a surprisingly strong grip for a mortal woman.

Which was saying something, as he was a vampire.

Starting to feel increasingly troubled about the experience, Harry renewed his struggles, succeeding in pulling his mouth away from hers.

"Ginny!" he snapped, "What the _fuck_ do you think you're _doing_?!"

But Ginny didn't seem to really hear him; her eyes were glazed over, and her cheeks were flushed red. He shuddered as he felt her breath hit his skin, her panting easily crossing the short distance.

"Don't you see Harry," she whispered, sounding a mix between lustful and hysterical, "it's about time that you stop playing around, you know we're meant to be together, what's the use in trying to hold back anymore?"

She smiled breathlessly, and Harry felt himself still as she shifted her way between his legs, forcing him up against the glass of the shower, and pushed herself against him.

She took Harry's unresponsive form as permission and giggled slightly, before she dove back into his mouth forcefully.

She quickly pulled back with a shocked cry however; as she felt her grip broken and strong, unrelenting hands claw into her forearms, brutally shoving her back.

Peering up, she couldn't help but be entranced by the sight of gleaming verdant eyes.

"Ginny," growled Harry lowly, "don't _ever _come anywhere near me, ever again. Do you _understand_?"

He was pissed. Very much so, he could barely retain the urge to hiss at the petty little girl and strike her down where she stood. How dare she do such a thing? Not only to touch him, and even presume she had any right at all to be near him, but to subject him to her delusions as well? He barely held himself back.

Throwing one last seething glare to the girl, he strode past her and quickly made his way out of sight, banging the door as he passed.

Ginny waited timidly, rubbing at the small bleeding scratches on her arms. But really though, she couldn't be any happier. Oh sure, Harry _thought_ he was mad at her, but really, he was only confused about these new feelings for her- that had to be it. And men always got angry when they were confused, they were silly like that.

Now all she had to do was wait until Harry calmed down. Oh, and make sure that that Draco person knew he wasn't wanted anymore. Yes, tonight truly was turning out to be the best of her life.

* * *

Harry sat huddled, knees up on the silk sheets of his bed, staring impatiently at the opposite wall. Despite his still form, he was feeling inexplicably full of energy; as if he had something he should rather be doing than simply sitting there. He couldn't identify what he should be doing though, so he had simply settled in for waiting for Draco to come back; he was sure that his sire could make him feel better. 

Ever since the incident with…Ginny, he had been feeling incredibly out of sorts, and the lingering taste of her in his mouth didn't help one bit.

It felt distinctly wrong, and the ghosts of her touches were making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin.

He could hardly believe Ginny had actually done it, he had known before that she chased after him, living in some sort of denial, but surely she wasn't this delusional? Or this desperate to force herself on him.

Well, the events told otherwise, and Harry wasn't really in a forgiving mood at the moment. Not only could he taste her, he could smell her on him too; that flowery perfume she always uses so much. It was practically gagging his receptive senses.

He was so focused on his running thoughts, that he didn't feel Draco behind him until the older vampire sunk down onto the bed next to him.

He turned slightly and summoned the best smile he could.

"Back from Severus already? That wasn't long…"

"No, we didn't have much to discuss, fortunately," said Draco, peering at him suspiciously. Harry cursed inside his head, mostly on Draco for being so perceptive.

He felt a pale hand sneak its way up to gently grasp his chin, and he didn't bother to resist as Draco tilted his head to the side to face him.

"Now, now, what happened while I was gone, hmm? You look rather troubled lovely," said Draco softly.

Harry merely gave a tight shake of the head, and gratefully let Draco take his mouth into a kiss, eager to have Draco replace the prickling along his skin with tingles.

He was disappointed when Draco moved back so suddenly, though this rapidly became wariness as he saw the blonde stiffen. He looked up, only to be pierced with silver eyes.

"Harry," he growled softly, "why do you taste like someone else?"

Harry shivered, though whether it was from Draco or from revulsion he couldn't tell.

"That would be Ginny's fault," he spat, nose crinkling in distaste. He couldn't help it, why should he lie?

"Ginny?" muttered Draco, pulling away, "the female red head?"

Harry merely nodded mutely in reply, looking away from Draco's angry silver stare.

"And what did the little mortal do, _darling_?"

Harry glanced up once more, soaking up Draco's terrible beauty; it was even greater when he got angry, he dimly realised, when his eyes _glowed _and he could see the hint of pearly white from behind full lips.

"She accosted me as I got out the shower, the little thing has a really tight grip you know?" growled Harry, the previous anger welling up as the sheer annoyance of the entire situation spiked.

"Oh?" asked Draco severely, features setting in a hard glare.

Harry turned serious eyes over to Draco, leaning forward suddenly on the bed, forcing him to go on all fours as he moved over to Draco, he was still surveying him through a hoary gaze.

"Kiss me?" Harry asked breathlessly, voice barely above a whisper.

When Draco refused to respond or comply, he narrowed his eyes.

"I want to get her taste out of my mouth, its becoming unbearable-"

"What makes you think I want to kiss you when you taste like that?" asked Draco sharply, voice low with anger, a darkness taking over his face, as his eyes, silver as there were, glinted red. The candles flickered warningly as the shadows stretched unnaturally.

Harry recoiled slightly, feeling the pressure coming from the older, more powerful vampire, repressing the small flicker of fear. This surely wasn't the last time Draco would frighten him, but he knew he could overcome it, if need be.

Just like now.

Harry felt his fangs brush against his lower lip, and, with a speed that only a vampire could posses, darted forward to sink his fangs into the juncture where neck met shoulder. He only stayed long enough to take a mouthful before pulling away, letting himself lie on the ruffled sheets.

Draco gave a faint hiss at Harry's little action, and glared lightly at him. It quickly faded however, as he watched his little charmant swill the blood around his mouth a few times, a small trail of red leading from the corner of his mouth.

"Much better," Harry asserted after several moments, before glancing up to Draco with wide, dark eyes.

The blonde merely sighed, and bent over to lick off the smear of red on his cheek, trailing a pale hand through dark locks.

"No need to get all upset _Harry, _I'll sort it out."

Harry, who had been sourly sucking on his teeth, a habit he'd picked up recently, glanced up sharply, eyes narrowing slightly.

"What do you mean, 'you'll sort it out'?"

Draco had the nerve to try to look innocent.

"Why so suspicious darling, don't you believe me?"

Harry snorted, but didn't pull away, enjoying the sensation of having his hair stroked far too much- not that he would _ever _admit that to Draco. Or anyone else for that matter.

"Oh, I would never believe that for a second Draco," said Harry sarcastically.

To his frustration however, Draco merely took this at face value, fully aware that wasn't what Harry meant but using it anyway.

"Well, I'll just have to prove it to you then."

Draco was halfway out the door when Harry realised the blonde was moving, the hand removed. Sitting up in his surprise, he called out.

"Draco," he asked apprehensively, "just what are you planning to do?"

Draco paused on his way out, halfway through the doorway, and peered back over his shoulder, revealing silver eyes.

"Oh, nothing more than she deserves,"

And then he was gone, leaving a rather anxious Harry behind. Fighting the growing unease, Harry pulled himself to the edge of the bed and sighed, biting his lip in nervous habit.

"Better go have another shower I suppose," he said firmly to himself, "I can't stand the bloody perfume a single moment more."

He swiftly returned to the bathroom, leaving Draco to whatever he had decided to entertain himself with.

* * *

Ginny hummed to herself as she made her way up the stairs to her room, fiddling a little with the tissues she'd wrapped around her arm to cover the scratches; oddly enough they were still bleeding slightly. She was in far too good a mood to be worried over such small things like that though; things were finally happening with Harry! How long had she waited for this to happen? Years- and now, after a _very_ small amount persuasion, it was soon all about to pay off. 

She choked down on the delighted giggles that were trying to force their way through her throat and out of her mouth. It wouldn't do to get Ron suspicious, or any of the others. Relationship matters like these needed to be handled with the utmost care and delicacy.

Once she and Harry were together officially, then _they_ would tell them.

She smiled a little at the thought, and was so immersed in her thoughts she nearly bumped into someone going down the stairs.

"Oh, Draco, I'm sorry I didn't see you there."

Her mood was so great, that she couldn't even bring herself to be mean to Draco. He was the one after all that tried to lead her Harry astray. But then again, that didn't matter anymore did it?

"Not at all," said the blonde smoothly, "it was my own fault."

Ginny smiled at the comment and nodded her head in assent, inwardly wondering whether Harry had broken it off yet with him. He didn't look too sad right now, maybe she ought to give him a bit of a warning? Just so it wouldn't be such a shock. He did seem nice enough after all.

She peered up at the man primly, "Are you off to see Harry? I think he has something he wants to talk to you about."

"Oh, let me assure you, that Harry has already spoken to me about _everything_," he said softly.

She was confused over why he didn't seem to be saddened; maybe he already knew that Harry wasn't _really _gay in the first place. He smiled disarmingly at her, and she smiled tentatively back.

"Well, that's good to hear, things like this should be out in the open so they can be resolved, don't you think?"

"Oh," he purred, "I completely agree."

They passed by each other and went their separate ways, Draco to downstairs and Ginny up to her room. If Draco's eyes had seemed a bit darker than usual, she paid it no mind.

Ginny began her humming again as she reached the landing, and practically glided into her room, wrinkling her nose slightly at the dust that fell as she opened the door. She sighed, and went to collapse on top of her bed, staring up at the moonlit ceiling blissfully.

She was just about to indulge in the laughter she had been suppressing all evening, when from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a folded piece of paper on the small table stationed beside her bed.

Frowning in curiosity, she picked it up, heart fluttering wildly as she recognised the handwriting on the front.

'_Ginny'_

Wetting her lips in anticipation she flicked it over, eager to read what it said. She could barely believe it; he was leaving her love letters already!

'_Meet me outside, in the garden past the gate._

_I'll be waiting…'_

She gasped, and vainly tried to repress the squeal of joy. This- this was more than she'd ever imagined, who knew Harry was such a romantic?

She hurriedly checked her makeup in a pocket mirror and scurried off back down the stairs, eager to meet up with her clandestine lover.

* * *

She peered round the edge of the gate, and anxiously glanced about, eyes frantically searching for any sign of Harry. It had taken her longer than she had thought to get here, and as she stepped tentatively onto the stone patio she sharply flicked a twig from out of her hair. 

She hopped nervously down the pathway, peering about wondering where her Harry was hiding. Surely he was meant to be waiting for her?

Frowning a little, and in an attempt to make sure she had found the right place, she shuffled a little further along, taking small steps; it was dark, and she'd already lost her footing more than once on the way here.

In fact, it was almost unnaturally dark tonight; with no moon it was hard to see more than three feet ahead. It was almost cloying in its nature, as if it wanted to grab a hold of her and smother her. She shivered, suddenly feeling a little chill, and looked about her nervously once again.

She dearly wished that Harry would find her soon.

'Caw!'

She jumped, startled, and whirled around, shaking, only to find a raven sitting in one of the nearby trees. She smiled faintly in relief, wondering what could be going through her mind to make her so scared of a bird, of all things, when she heard another 'Caw!' from right behind her.

Stumbling she stepped back, seeing a raven also sitting on the nearby low window sill.

Glancing at her feet to make sure she didn't fall, she halted, blood freezing cold.

There, staining the stone paving slabs was a dried pool of rusty red. Unlike the rest of her surroundings, the colour had no problem standing out starkly against the dark night sky.

It flaked beneath her feet and she began to feel sick. A flutter of wings sounded from above her and she quickly ran forward, the bright red stain on the raised patio burned into her mind.

She rounded the corner and gave a small cry at seeing something move and shift in the darkness. She froze with terror, and even when all see saw was a raven flitting on the stones, she remained shaking with fear.

That was, until she became so petrified that even her bottom lip stiffened against it's trembling.

The shadows seemed to gather, and the raven was no longer a raven, but swirling shadows too.

She saw a flash of white, a stream of red and then no more than the black expanse.

* * *

"Aaaaaaaarrhhhhhh-!" 

All members of the house snapped wide-awake, as a tortured scream rent through the air.

* * *

**A/N:Oh my God! Someone's died again! Such a shame, what with all the readers who wanted her alive...#cough. **

**Anyway, how'd you like it? Harry's really becoming something isn't he? And i somehow snuck in some vampire fluff too, hee. I've decided i like this chapter. Next chappy, we see their reactions to Ginny's...passing, and things just get darker, while our vampires just seem to be getting hotter...**

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review! bye!**


	23. Loss and Gain

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N:Oh...hi? I know! I know! i haven't updated in forever! But, if you've checked my profile, you know i have been writing! Just it is a little difficult for me right now. Now this chapter may be shorter than others previous, but as my beta says, qaulity, not quantity, and she's given her squeal of approval for this (lol). Oh yes, that said, there is a lemon in this, remember this is M rated- so if you don't like it, skip to the end after the third pagebreak or something...i dunno. ffdotnet can be so uppity bout this sometimes, so just no one complain, kay? Good. Now, on with the story.**

Warnings:SLASH, LEMON AHEAD, character death (we are _so _sad about that, by the way) and a perhaps some spellcheck errors- sorry!

* * *

**Loss and Gain**

"Aaaaaaaarrhhhhhh-!"

All members of the house snapped wide-awake, as a tortured scream rent through the air.

Heads throughout the entire household darted up, Hermione staring at Ron in the living room with wild, brown eyes. Ron merely stared back at her for a moment, mouth agape, before recognising the voice from which such a horrifying sound could spew.

"Ginny…" he whispered, and with not another moment he dashed off in the direction of the outside doors, Hermione skidding after him. They passed by Luna as she came down the entrance hall steps, with a rather wan looking Harry trailing behind her.

They followed hurriedly after the storming Wealsey.

The ramshackle group stumbled their way out onto the patio, peering about nervously in the oppressive gloom. Ron was the only one who didn't break to pause, frantically swinging his head to and fro.

"Ginny!" he shouted, "Ginny!"

There was no reply, and Ron rapidly moved on, Hermione and Luna rapt at his heels as they travelled round the corner onto the raised pathway of paving stones. Harry scampered after them nervously, already able to smell the sweet smell of death on the air. His stomach writhed uncomfortably as with his eyesight he managed to pick out a blot of blood-red colour in the darkness, lying some feet away on the stone slabs.

Harry heard Ron give out a muffled cry, and another exclamation of "Ginny!" from ahead. He winced and tentatively walked forward, an image looming out of the darkness of the night.

It was a scene that Harry was sure he wouldn't forget for many years to come. It was almost artistic in its construction.

Lying limply on the ground, blood slowly spilling onto the stone around her lay Ginny, eyes glassy and unseeing, and a look of horror on her face that not even death could undo. Her skin was pale and sallow already, and her flaming red hair lay strewn about her, growing darker as her blood began to seep into it.

Rose vines clung to the trellised flowerbeds on either side, and Ron knelt down beside the still figure slowly, unknowingly greatly resembling a knight. His blue eyes were wide, and his freckles lay stark against his paling pallor.

"G-Gin….? Gin….?" He murmured brokenly, a shaking hand reaching out to gently touch her shoulder.

As soon as it made contact, however, it was abruptly pulled back, Ron hissing slightly under his breath.

"S-she's cold….Hermione!" he roared, anger surfacing, "why- why is she cold?" he asked desperately, gaze never leaving his fallen sister.

But Hermione answer was merely a sob, her eyes wet and sparkling through her tears, which cascaded over the hands covering her face and down her cheeks, smattering the floor.

Luna was also tearing nearby, her usual vacant look diminished, making her dirty blonde hair limp, and her eyes ghostly; she looked vulnerable.

Ron took the silence as confirmation, and no one said a word, as he broke down into sobs, howling out angry cries through the hot scalding tears.

Harry could only watch on, apart from the scene, glancing down at Ginny's broken form. He swallowed heavily.

_Oh Draco, what have you done?_

* * *

Harry did not know how long they remained there, but as his mind was quite blank, he'd lost the meaning of time. However, he was aware when it came the point that Ron seemed to have shed all his tears he could possibly shed, and was now reduced to simply quivering and breathing through dry, heaving sobs.

It was with a great force of will that Hermione paused in her stuttering to softly tell Ron to come back inside, her voice breaking half the way through.

After a good ten minutes pleading, he acquiesced, but refused to listen to Luna's sorrowful interjection that they should leave the body where it was. Instead, he gently picked her limp, cold form up, her red hair cascading down form his arms, dripping slightly.

Ron however, had paid it no mind, and once they got inside, had tenderly placed her down on the couch, even moving to brush a lock of hair from her face.

Hermione's tears resurfaced, and Harry as extremely glad that the time hadn't yet come that they truned to him. His silence seemed to have made them forget about him entirely. He heard a sniffle, and a tilt of the head revealed it to be Colin, who was curled up on an armchair, appearing as small and lost as a five year old.

The tension was high, and Ron still said nothing, eyes dull and still fixed on the sight of his fallen sister.

Hermione failed to restrain a dry sob, and Ron's shock instantly turned to anger.

"You-! Why the fuck are you crying?! Huh?! It's not-it's not your sister that's just died!"

His final word rang into the silence, and Ron flushed cheeks immediately went white.

"She's…dead…" he said hollowly, and with that, he fell back heavily onto one of the armchairs, and buried his head in his hands. Small droplets wet the carpet beneath him.

"I…I just don't understand…" whispered Hermione finally, wet brown eyes peering fearfully around the room.

"What…what could have happened?"

Her voice was small and helpless, and she clutched herself alone for comfort in the middle of the room, gaze darting everywhere like a frightful bird.

It suddenly occurred to him that Ginny was the first person to die on that patio, and he had the feeling that she wouldn't be the last. He himself had fallen victim to death's clutches, only to be revived by his sire.

This was the home of a vampire after all, it seemed inevitable that humans, mortals, would die in this place; in fact, he recalled that Dumbledore had once said that no one had ever returned alive. And despite appearances, he hadn't either. Who was to say that Ginny wasn't merely the first? He gave her an observatory glance from the corner of his eye; she looked far more beautiful in death than she had ever done in life.

And it was Draco that had done it.

He swiftly pierced Hermione with a verdant gaze, from his position settled in one of the other armchairs. He regarded her intently for a moment before finally opening his mouth to speak.

"Hermione," he said lowly, sodden doe eyes locked with glowing green, "you never should have come here."

He could see the conversation they had had not even a day before filter through her head; her eyes widened and tears that had been welling broke free to flow down her face as she paled whiter than ash.

He couldn't bring himself to be moved from the horrified look in her eyes.

"Oh, god, I never thought- serious, I- oh god…"

Her frenzied whispers continued, fluttering in the unlit living room like spiders, until even Ron lifted his head.

"What do you mean, Hermione?" he asked vacantly, voice broken.

She spun around to face him, jumping like she'd been electrocuted by merely his voice. She gazed at him with eyes full of remorse and sadness, but all she could bear to say was,

"Oh god, Ron, I'm sorry, I'm _so _sorry."

She was interrupted by Luna's choked sob in the corner, and no one spoke a word. The silence swallowed them up in the dark like a shroud, and it refused to be lifted with utmost persistence.

They were all crying now, though still in the unearthly stillness. Even Harry.

Though his tearing eyes were for something a little different from the others.

It was just- he couldn't-…

He just couldn't bring himself to feel anything for the dead girl lying on that sofa. Not a thing. His previous annoyance with her had died, but now…nothingness. No remorse, sadness or grief, just a passing morbid curiosity, as if he knew nothing of her.

He had been getting used to the blurs that were his former life, but this…

He couldn't bring himself to summon an ounce of emotion for her, not even enough to shed false tears. The mortal…was nothing to him really. He could perhaps feel a little general distaste for Draco's doings, but only in regard to the fact that it caused a whole new slew of problems, and made it far more likely that they'd find out everything.

Which was an unnecessary nuisance.

And frankly, the thought was terrifying. For, as he looked on at what were once his best friends in all the world, something akin to his family, he suddenly realised that he would never be with them again. He couldn't, he didn't fit. They were human, and he-he was not.

He wasn't human anymore.

He was now separate, in the darkness of the world with Draco, and even Severus- vampires. They were his new world.

And the time had come for acceptance.

So, as on that dark night, Hermione, Ron, Luna and Colin sobbed over the loss of Ginny and her demise, Harry wept silently over his lost humanity, for one final time.

* * *

There was silence after that, for the longest time. Ron refused any sort of comfort, and both Luna and Hermione seemed content to simply cry till the tears dried. Colin still sniffled occasionally.

By the time the first lights of dawn arrived, Harry had long stopped any feel reflection and was verging on the edge of bored; he'd been cramped up this single chair for far too long, not to mention he desperately wanted to find Draco.

The damned vampire deserved some reprimand for this; what the hell was he supposed to explain this away? He'd stalled a little with Hermione, but they'd want a proper, _full _answer form him on what had really been happening since Hermione dropped him off.

God, that seemed so long ago.

He was also beginning to feel more than a little tired, a fact acerbated by the green light filtering over the horizon. Not to mention the slight ache in his stomach, a precursor to the more fervent itch in his teeth, signifying his need to feed. He really needed a proper meal.

He sighed, uncaring to the glance Hermione gave him, and finally simply let himself stand up, stretching his back to loosen the cramps. He'd wasted several hours down here, trying to be remorseful and polite, but his mood had quickly become irritable with tiredness and hunger, and so he was off to find a certain sire of his, though he wasn't entirely sure what he would do upon seeing him.

Bite him, kiss him or yell at him.

All felt equally likely in his somewhat hazy state of mind.

No one said a word as he left the room, though he felt the sharp gaze of Ron on his back. He didn't spare it much of a thought, he had things to do.

He found Draco in the gardens after not much search. In fact, unlike usual, he had managed to find the man in record time. The blond was sitting on the edge of a small stone wall, overlooking some of the more withered regions of the estate.

Even now, Harry couldn't retain the slight shiver as he heard one of the shrieking cries echo in the distance, fully knowing that it was one of the various white peacocks that roamed about. Damn birds.

The older vampire didn't seem to take note of him, and with silent strides, he easily came to a stand next to him.

They remained that way for several minutes, relaxed and just savouring the contentment of the other's presence. Harry felt his tense nerves sooth, and let his gaze drift longingly to the other's lap, which was looking incredibly inviting all of a sudden.

"See something you want, darling?" asked Draco softly, gaze still focused in the far distance.

Harry couldn't help the slight blush, or the voice somewhere in the back of his head protesting that he should be angry; Draco had caused all sorts of problems with his little possessive stunt, though a part of him was beginning to feel a little flattered at the same time. It was all just a confusing mess which would lead to an immense headache.. Best to leave his convoluted mind alone really.

Besides, what was done was done, no need to get worked up. Though he would chastise him for it later. Yes…later.

But for now…

Harry let a small smirk tilt his lips.

"Maybe," he said evasively, eyeing the blond's frame from the corner of his eye, suddenly feeling a little playful.

"Oh?" said Draco, finally turning about to face him, grey eyes hooded with an idle lethargy, though a spark glinted appreciatively. Harry narrowed his eyes a little, glancing warily at the older man, feeling something amiss. The other was plotting something.

Now what would he…-

Before he could even comprehend it, he had let out a slight shriek as he suddenly collided with the still dew damp grass, the scent dancing about him as the blades beneath him were crushed by his sudden arrival.

However, most of his attention remained on the blond vampire above him, who had tackled him to said ground. And who was currently nuzzling his neck with bites and small kisses, which Harry happily consented too, hands raising to entangle themselves into blond strands.

"Hmm, you smell much better this morning charmant, I'm glad that mortal's stench is off," he paused briefly to readjust himself, freeing a hand to go wandering down his little lovely's shirt and beyond.

"And now, I believe we have some catching up to do, don't you think, _darling?_"

Harry felt himself let out something suspiciously close to a _giggle_, as he thrust his head back into the grass, revealing more pale skin for Draco to run his lips over. He dug his nails into the skin on Draco's back as the blond pressed down with a particularly hard nip, leaving a darkening blush of reddening flesh in its wake.

In response, Harry deftly turned his head to reciprocate, revelling in the small shudder he caused as he trailed his tongue up a strong jaw to lavish attention on an ear.

He felt Draco give that deep, rumbling chuckle of his from above.

"My, my, feeling a little more frisky today, charmant?"

Harry couldn't form a verbal reply; he relied on the sharp gasp he gave as a hand deftly pulled down a zipper, pressing hard against his hardening cock. Uh…it was so…good.

He thrust his head back against the grass, his hair spilling around his head like a dark halo of silky tresses as his grip on Draco's shoulders became bruising. The older vampire gave a rumbling growl from above him, and the hand palming him shifted a little.

Draco, ignoring the ensuing whimper of disappointment, moved to draw down jeans further, before lifting a creamy pale thigh as his charmant hissed a little at the feeling of cool autumn air against his heated skin, which was flushed a delightful pink against the expanse of milky white.

He couldn't help but chuckle lightly, as Harry vainly attempted to not buck his hips in want of greater friction, instead squirming roughly below him; that was going to leave grass stains.

He felt his fangs extend on their own volition as he nuzzled the soft skin of Harry's inner thigh, leaving small lines of red where they passed. As the skin broke, he felt Harry shudder underneath him, curtailing moans at the painful pleasure by biting harshly into his lip, causing blood to trickle down his chin. The poor little thing was already beginning to tense up, and shudder and jerk. Draco continued past the soft delicate skin of the inner thigh, scraping lightly as he drew near the by-now weeping erection. He gave the tip a taunting lick as Harry began to pant, dark green eyes hazy and unfocused.

What a beautiful sight.

Smirking to himself, grey eyes burning silver, he let his nose trail up, tongue following in a leisurely manner as sharp little breaths came from somewhere below.

He barely took the head in his mouth, and barely had to suck as he drew his sharp canines over the delicate skin, before he felt the body tense below him, and the overwhelming scent of grass as Harry twisted a whole handful into tiny pieces as he grasped at them futilely, as he was consumed by the hot burning whiteness that removed every single thought or worry from existence.

Crying out, he barely heard his sire's dark laughter from above him, and merely groaned as he felt his clothes being readjusted on his limp frame. He took no more notice as he felt a warm tongue lap at the spilt blood that had seeped from his bitten lip.

His mind was blissfully blank and without care, and he was surrounded by the overwhelming urge to simply _sleep._ With a slight frown through his hazy pleasure, he fisted Draco's shirt before pulling him down for an admittedly rather sloppy kiss, taking the blond by surprise at the others strong grip.

He was left to his amusement however, as Harry's grip slackened as he fell off to sleep, curled into his sire's chest.

* * *

**A/N:So there we go, after a long silence, that should not be repeated. Sorry about the slight shortness, but its almost 3000 words (which was not my laziness-completely). Anyway, as always, i adore your reviews, and i'm amazed how much response i've gotten for this story-really. And as i actually do depend on reviews for survival (a terrible condition really), it makes me happy to get them-lol. **

**Next chapter, things'll start getting dangerous again. After all, i'm only about 4-5 chapters from the end...hehehe. **


	24. The Night Draws In

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Umm, hello. Still alive here- though perhaps not for much longer, considering how long the wait was #laughs nervously. I am very sorry for said wait, what with exams, a new story and laziness to get past, its been quite a while. However, i really need to finish this story soon, its only got a few more chapters, so watch out for the upcoming climatic ending! But not quite yet...lol. Anyway, thankyou all for your reviews, and i hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Warnings: Some swearing, SLASH, reference to character death and um...some suspense!

* * *

**The Night Draws In**

Draco had seen and done many things in his existence, as long as it had been. Most of which he had absolutely no desire whatsoever to witness or repeat ever again. The near four centuries had passed amazingly quickly however, years slipping away as easily as sand grains as he travelled, tasted and danced in the night, as all those of the vampire nature were wont to do.

However, while most would go on with their long undead lives in the wonders of company, Draco had defied the social norm by avoiding society at all costs.

He'd never wished or longed for a companion before; he'd occasionally entertain himself with toys for a few months, like a cat with an unsuspecting mouse, but he had most certainly never considered seriously the idea of there ever being _someone else_. He had been happy enough with a chase and reaping a quick reward of pleasure; it had contented him for long enough and the opinion he had held for many years was that another person would simply be a bother.

He had thought he had lost all capacity for company a long time ago.

His father had seen to that.

However, with the recent turn of events, which involved the softly dozing, beautiful form of his charmant, he concluded that it was most veritably a case of not knowing what he had been missing. Either that, or Harry was the first to ever merit his attentions.

As he let pale fingers card through inky locks, he absentmindedly mused on the importance of Companions. They were highly treasured in vampire circles, and had the tendency to not let go, once they had been found.

Feeling the slight warmth lying so peacefully in his lap, he was for once inclined to agree. He didn't ever want for Harry to suddenly disappear.

Unlike others, who he would gladly welcome falling off the edge of the earth any time.

Lucius Malfoy however, would never be so wonderfully gracious as to do so.

Draco felt his eyes darken at the very thought of the man. The one who led to his entire family joining the ranks of dark creatures that haunted the underworld.

It seemed like forever ago when he'd been a small boy who had idolised his perfect father more than anything. Though he supposed four hundred years was good enough.

After the…incident, all three of them had gone their separate ways in the world, despite Draco being nothing more than a child at the time.

His mother tried her best for him, but back then, in that world, it had been practically impossible, and he'd spent the first few years as a Fledgling, without guidance and completely lost in the world, wandering aimlessly where the flowing nature of life took him. It all seemed so long ago now that sometimes he wondered if it had actually happened at all, and not to someone else entirely.

But Lucius once again, was a constant reminder that it most definitely had.

Ever since that day, every now and then the man would reappear again. His 'visits', as they were known, could only be described as unpredictable in their intent.

One time, for example, Draco had been under the fairly accurate impression that his father was trying his very best to kill him, if his behaviour was any indication.

Draco had been forced to retreat, bloody and bleeding off the battlefield, left alone until forty years later Lucius showed up yet again, coming for the nerve-wracking equivalent of tea and talk. In his younger years even the name of his father could conjure up shakes and shivers, not helped in the least by his father's own sway in the world; much attributed to his ever faithful Death Eaters, even in the turbulent ways of the underworld.

It was hard to describe the sort of reputation Lucius held. He had been labelled under nearly every adjective imaginable, and yet his presence always was something that ruffled feathers and wrinkled the noses of high society elites. No one, however, dared to dissuade him from his endeavours or to refuse him. Though it should be noted that Draco and his mother were thought of as _far_ more pleasant; though the young Lord was often noted to be cold and recluse.

Draco for the most part had become used to his father's bipolar nature as the years passed, though every time he was forced to endure the man's company he came out coiled tighter than a pressurised spring. Being older, and more powerful, he didn't exactly fear Lucius in the same way, however, and so such visitations usually didn't faze him so, even when Death Eaters were gliding all about.

But…

This time, it wasn't just him that could get hurt, or worse.

Glancing down, he felt his grip on the smaller man tighten as his gaze ran over familiar features.

Harry…was such a beautiful creature, in many ways, and still very much defenceless.

Well, perhaps not completely inept, but he had neither the experience nor the power an older age would grant him. He'd been wondering over how to deal with his father's inevitable incoming visit in respect to his charmant, but was still indecisive.

He had so far only determined that Harry and his father should _not _meet under any circumstances. But knowing that, Harry was unlikely to be cooperative; it would be his nature to remain by his sire's side.

And no matter what, he did not want Lucius to become aware of a weakness he may be able to exploit.

For somewhere over the course of the past few weeks Harry had become more than dear to him. Unlike any of his other toys, which had ended in quick relief and that was that, he simply couldn't leave Harry behind.

He was different, and he cared for the dark haired man deeply. Perhaps, he mused as he softly twirled a strand of onyx hair between his fingers, perhaps he even loved him.

It was a foreign concept, and one that he was distinctly out of touch with but yet…

He couldn't deny the fondness he held for his little Harry. He wasn't about to let anything untoward happen to him if he could help it, which led straight back to Lucius.

The situation was problematic and time was running out.

He gave a soft sigh and turned his gaze to the sky; the soft afternoon sunlight was giving way to dark clouds.

Perhaps he should simply entrust him to Severus's care…

Before the first rumble could sound from above, Draco rose from his place on the dewy grass, Harry still tightly encased in his arms, secure against him.

He walked sedately back up to the house.

His father always had a flair for the dramatic.

* * *

Harry gave a small growl of consternation as he awoke, being flung onto something he quickly identified as a sofa. Muttering unintelligibly in his sleepy state, he threw a disgruntled look to the person who had woke him in such a manner.

"Why are you glaring at me so? I'm very sorry to have to interrupt your beauty sleep darling, but I'm afraid that we've matters to attend to."

Still grumbling slightly, Harry forced himself to a sitting position, propping himself up on some of the comfier pillows. A vague glance around yielded that they were in the blonde's study, which disorientated him for a moment, mind still somewhere outside on the grass. Once his mind resettled however, his grumpy mood returned.

"What?" he asked belligerently, irritated at having his nap disturbed. He'd been so comfortable too- why did he have to wake up so soon?

Draco paid no attention to his tone, however, and carried on speaking lightly.

"It's going to be nightfall soon, but I'm afraid that I'm going to have to send you to Severus's."

Harry frowned, and sat up a little straighter, taking in his sire with keen eyes, easily noting that something was amiss. Draco had never outright told him to do something before, especially leave the house. In fact, previously the blond had been immovably set on keeping him _in. _Not to mention there was something off in Draco's tone. It was sharper than he was used to and it wasn't the way in which he was used to the older vampire.

"Why?" he asked curiously, tilting his head to the side, surveying the other man with slanted eyes. He wasn't going to let Draco lie to him again, he'd by now had quite enough of being left out the loop.

Draco gave an irritable sigh, his lax air lost as he leaned stiffly against the wall.

"Will you just go without asking questions?"

"No."

Harry said this far too happily for Draco's liking, and he was almost afraid to look as Harry shuffled to the edge of the sofa so he could sit properly, surveying him with a purposeful gaze.

Draco turned to stare blankly out a nearby window, frowning as the last rays of sun glinted off the glass.

He gave a slight growl before turning to younger vampire.

"Go to Severus and stay out of trouble; I'm sure you hungry by now aren't you? He'll have something for you."

Harry said nothing, but surveyed the older man with an intense green stare. It was unlike Draco to be this way. His voice was clipped and sharp, and held a different emotion that Harry wasn't sure he had heard in the other before. In fact, from the tense figure he would almost say that Draco was stressed about something. Though Draco never seemed fazed by anything. What was going on?

Frowning, he got off the sofa and moved towards the other with soft steps.

"Hey, is something wrong?"

Worried verdant eyes pinned him, and Draco couldn't help but release another sigh, before wrapping an arm about Harry's waist, pulling him flush against him. He couldn't resist the temptation either to lower his head and bury it in dark silky hair, inhaling the scent deeply. So sweet.

As such, he didn't see the deep blush that imprinted itself on Harry's face, though he did feel a responding pair of arms clasp firmly on his back. So warm, so nice, he wasn't sure he wanted to leave.

Pulling back a little so he could place a reassuring kiss on Harry's unresisting lips, he held his grip on the other's hips, a small smile in place.

"I'm just fine dear, no need to worry about me. I'm just having a rather…unfortunate visitor tonight, who I'd rather you didn't meet. And you're hungry anyway aren't you lovely?"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, even as he felt the slight gnawing in his stomach and warning ache in his overly sharp incisors. Scowling lightly as Draco looked at him pointedly with swirling silver eyes, Harry couldn't help but acquiesce with a weary nod. Though he wasn't particularly happy.

But if Draco didn't want him here for this meeting, he had to respect the elder's decision. He had a much better idea about these sorts of things anyway.

The thought of him leaving his sire, however, was discomforting, and despite his Hunger, he'd rather not go to Severus for more cold blood packs that were most likely thieved from the local hospital. Especially when he knew for a fact it tasted much better when warm and fresh, and could slide down his throat like good wine.

Grumbling a little under his breath, he sent Draco a faint glare as he walked over to the door of the study room they found themselves in. Fixing the older vampire with one more suspicious stare before he slid out the door, he called out.

"Any time when I should be back?"

Draco's silver gaze was temporarily warmed with amusement, figure much more relaxed against the wall.

"Just make sure to be back by morning darling, don't want me to have to go chasing after you now do we?"

Harry appeared to ponder this intently for a minute, dark green eyes thoughtful.

"No," he said at length, "I don't think so."

And with one last smile he was out the door, leaving Draco to stare fondly after him.

Such a sweet little charmant.

His mood quickly soured once more, however, when his gaze fell on the curved sliver sword that lay behind his desk.

* * *

When Harry descended the stairs and entered the living room, or what perhaps once was one, he was surprised to find the tableau of people almost exactly the same as how he had left it.

Ginny was lying, like a grotesque life size version of a porcelain doll on the sofa, and Ron, Hermione, Luna and Colin were arranged sombrely around the room on various armchairs and seats. Ron still had his head in his hands, though it appeared as if tears had already been shed until they ran dry.

He had completely forgotten about Ginny, and he shifted uncomfortably when the ache in his canines throbbed acutely as he waited for the customary wave of guilt to crash down on him. It didn't.

Positioning himself by leaning on the doorframe, he was thankful that his silent entrance hadn't alerted the others to his presence. From there, he gave a fleeting glance to the setting sun outside, reminded of Draco's own stare out the window.

He'd only left the older vampire a few minutes ago, but already he was beginning to get an intense sense of urgency, as if the dying rays of orange light were acting as a countdown.

He cast verdant eyes to survey the people in the room, unaware of the gleaming effect it caused, due to him being subconsciously located in the shadow of the door.

He could no longer connect to these people, despite their relevance and importance in his former life. There was but a small lingering fondness for any of them, though he most certainly did not wish to see them dead.

Considering that Draco was ushering him out the house, he assumed that mere humans shouldn't be in the general vicinity either.

He had to take them with him to Severus's.

But first…

All four living occupants of the room started as he stepped into the light, wild eyes becoming riveted on his form immediately.

While it appeared that the others had calmed down, Ron's temper was still seemingly red hot.

"Where the fuck have _you_ been, eh?"

Harry didn't reply.

"You disappear off for _hours_, we had no idea where you were! What would've happened if- if the same thing that got Ginny got you, huh? Where would we be then!"

By the time he finished, it had turned into an angry bellow, and Harry couldn't help but wince at the volume on his much more sensitive hearing.

"There's no need to worry about me Ron, _I'll _be just fine," Harry paused, glancing momentarily to the corpse of Ginevra Weasley before speaking softly, "have you phoned the police about her?"

Ron gave a seething hiss from behind his teeth and in his frustration slammed back down into the seat he'd been occupying all day. Hermione have him a nervous, reproachful glance, before hesitantly answering with a shake of the head.

"No, we couldn't get any signal, and there's no phone here. And besides, its not as if we know what address to give, do we?"

Her voice was breathy, and hoarse in a way that indicated she'd been crying for a long time. Though her words were welcome, her voice grated on Harry's nerves, and his jaw tensed as he felt his teeth respond to his irritation.

He didn't voice or show any of his ire, however, and merely nodded his head.

Silence gleefully enshrouded the room once more, and Harry struggled to break it, even as the horrible urgency in his stomach only grew stronger.

They were all interrupted by the callous dinging of a clock, which Harry could truthfully say he'd never heard chime before. Frowning uneasily, he glanced to said clock that sat in its dark wooden frame on a sideboard, proudly showing six o'clock.

Even a stopped clock was right twice a day…

Time was running out.

Filled with a sudden energy, Harry darted forward, and forcibly pulled Hermione up from her sitting position, ignoring her shocked yelp as she was wrenched from her armchair.

"We're leaving. Now."

His tone brooked no argument and Hermione gave him a startled look, brown eyes wide. Ron leapt from his chair.

"What?! Leaving, why?"

Harry twisted his head to give his former friend a level look, green eyes dark, face serious.

"It's not safe," he said simply, and tugged on Hermione's hand to drag her over to the door, trusting the others would follow.

Unfortunately, Ron was being obstinate when even Hermione was left in silence.

"What, that's all you're going to say," he said in disbelief as he watched his friend pull Hermione out of the room, on his way ushering Colin from his chair, "we can't just leave!"

Harry shot him an irritated look, his increasing hunger making him more irritable than usual, not helped by the stressful situation. If Draco didn't want him to be here when his 'guest' arrived, than Harry _did not_ want to be there.

Ron gave a snarl, his freckles glinting in the waning light.

"And what about Ginny huh?" he asked forcefully, indicating his dead sister.

Harry spared the figure one last glance before replying, "_She_ is dead, so there's not much more we can do for her, now is there?"

Ron gaped, and Luna interjected with a soft, "Harry," from beside him.

At the moment, he couldn't be bothered with their shocked looks and their complete lack of understanding. He jerked once more on an unresponsive Hermione's hand and pulled her easily out the room, down a corridor, into the entrance hall and out the door.

He didn't pause stride for a moment as he continued to lead her down the wide path to leave the estate, and a brief glance over his shoulder told him that the others were following him, however reluctantly in the case of Ron.

Hermione still hadn't said a word, but he could feel her unrelenting stare on his back as she stumbled behind him numbly, tripping over the loose gravel as she vainly tried to keep up with him and his incessant grip on her wrist. Luna, Colin and Ron behind them were practically jogging to keep up.

Harry noted these facts duly as Ron finally fell into step with him, mostly due to his own much longer strides, but still needing to breath deeply. He dimly heard Luna panting somewhere behind him.

He didn't slow for an instant; the sun had reverted to a tiny disk sitting on the edge of the horizon, and above him, the sky was already turning to a light purple, stars dotting in between the clouds.

As night descended around them, Harry felt increasingly jumpy, despite his newfound comfort about the dark. Tonight seemed ominous, and thunder rumbled overhead. The stars, it seemed, wouldn't be out for long before large dark clouds shielded them from view.

The five of them hurried along, trying to keep up with Harry's pace. He was glad that the walk was robbing them of their breath, so they couldn't ask any more questions, though he could feel it in their concerned looks. Now that they were out of the house, and without four solid walls to give them a fantasy of security, they gazed out nervously into the coming dark, lengthened shadows menacing. Even Ron's temper was cooled by his renewed mortal fear of the dark.

As they passed by the yew hedges, appearing as mere flickers through the branches as they went, the sun finally made its last dip for the night, leaving the wind scudding through the undergrowth to bring with it a distinctive chill.

It wasn't long before the sounds of their shoes could be heard clacking against the paved road, all of them subconsciously huddling together. Well, Harry didn't, but the others used him as the middle of the group. The wind had picked up, piercing through clothes and sending the laden clouds at a frantic pace up in the sky. In a brief moment the moon was revealed, and moonlight lit them in a pale imitation of sunlight. Glancing up, Hermione couldn't refrain from gasping silently.

Under the fleeting light of the moon, Harry, who she had thought looked sickly pale before, almost seemed to glow, his skin was so white. His lips were flushed red, in a dire contrast and his dark green eyes appeared to flash. He looked…elegant, and just as fleeting as the moonlight, like a shadow that could simply…disappear.

And then, as quickly as it had come, the moment was gone as the clouds once more shut off the last remaining light. She could hear her short and sharp breaths against the backdrop of black that made her instinctively panic as her eyes had to adjust to the sudden loss of light.

Harry however, seemed unaffected, and strode quickly and purposefully at the head of their little group.

As her sight slowly returned, Hermione found her eyes had never left Harry's face, and even now she could see how deathly pale he was.

"Harry…?" she muttered timidly, still puffing as she half jogged to keep up. He barely spared her a glance, but did tilt his head to show he was listening.

"Are- are you…alright?"

For reasons she couldn't quite clarify, she blushed as he actually did turn to face her.

"What do you mean?"

Hermione could feel herself blush further, and was distinctively glad that he couldn't see it.

"Well, its just that," she bit her lip, "you're…you're so _pale. _No one should be that colour naturally, so…so are you alright?"

Harry turned to face forward once again, and was silent for so long, she didn't think he'd answer, but eventually, his voice did drift back to her.

"I'm just fine Hermione, and don't worry either, we should be there soon."

Luna, after hearing gave a quick spurt to grab onto Hermione's hand, so to be in close enough range to ask,

"Where are we going?"

Hermione started, nearly missing her footing, disbelieving that she hadn't asked.

Harry voice came back clipped.

"To a friend's house, it should be safe there."

He said nothing more, despite the girl's hopeful looks that he'd elaborate, but they eventually resigned themselves to breathing. Ron refused to say a word.

Thinking on it, going to Severus's was irresistibly bringing back memories of their last encounters, and as Harry stared off into the night, the feel of the cold metal tucked in his waist band seemed to get heavier with every step. He still had the gun on him that Severus had 'given' to him, and he couldn't help but fervently wish that he wouldn't have to use it.

However, as they entered the small town, he couldn't help the shiver that wracked up his spine. It had gotten cold. Too cold, even for a chilly Autumn night.

Feeling a sense of foreboding, Harry finally stilled, unheeding to the mortals behind him bumping against his back.

Sharp green eyes caught the edge of a shadow as it seemingly slid across the ground. Hand unconsciously moving to rest lightly against the cool metal, Harry tracked the movement with keen eyes.

They weren't alone.

* * *

**A/N: Well, things are getting dangerous for both Harry and Draco...oh the possibilities! Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and a bit more light shed on Draco and Lucius i think. Anyway, next chapter shall be even more dangerous! Who knows if they'll make it to Severus? And who knows if one of them won't make it at all...?Well, ok, I do, but i'll leave you guessing :P**

**Oh, and remember that all of your reviews mean a lot to me, so don't hesitate to tell me what you think! See you next time, ja!**


	25. A Chase in the Dark

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait and sorry if i didn't reply to all the reviews, i'll loved them all! I'm afraid this chapter has given my quite a bit of trouble- you may be able to tell. I still think it could be better, but i think i just have to let it go for now, and simply post it. Hope you enjoy it anyway. I hope to get the next chapter out quite quickly as the next few shouldn't be as tricky. So, read, enjoy, and maybe review too!**

Warnings:SLASH, swearing, graphic violence and badly written action. You've been warned.

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**A Chase in the Dark**

Harry inwardly cursed, as his eye's darted from place to place, shadow to shadow. Through the dark, his gaze was perfectly capable to observe every single movement or flutter, but from experience, he knew that these spirits had the rather nasty habit of simply _appearing _where ever they wished.

And damn, if they weren't close to Severus's.

His gaze darted about as he tried to calm himself from the rising panic cloying in his veins. They were in trouble, no denying it.

Harry resisted the urge to breath deeply; it wouldn't help him anyways, though the same could not be said for his companions. It was clear from their rattling breaths that they were winded from the long and rapid trek from the house. But Harry could also detect the small trembling of fear in each individual exhale, as they stared with wide unseeing eyes into the dark.

_Useless._

The only light in the entire street came from a nearby streetlight.

Stilling any nervous trembles of fear, Harry took a cautious step forward, eyes fixed on a shifting shadow. He skirted silently round it, his feet making no sound on the pavement as he moved, before he halted, not two feet away. The shadow was cast by a post box of all things, but the usual square was darker than it should be, and seemed to writhe and wriggle unnaturally under his stare.

"Harry?" came Hermione's voice, hovering in the air like a fading note.

Not letting the shadow out of his eyes for a moment, he shushed her quickly with a hand. She fell silent.

Thinking, he tilted his head sharply, in an attempt to signal them to move round the corner into the next street, and away from the current danger.

Hermione stared in incomprehension at him, and Colin merely shivered. Ron, however, seemed to get the point, and with a small tug took Luna's limp hand and pulled her with him, moving as quietly as possible.

Hermione and Colin tentatively followed after, still giving him tentative glances.

Their footsteps were anything but silent to Harry's ears, but it was enough, and the shadow didn't give any sign of having heard them. Harry had had bad experiences of these things in the past, but he hoped that this time, he might be able to avoid invoking its attentions.

If he was going to carry out his aim of ensuring everyone safety to Severus's, it was all he could hope for. He did his best to ignore the increased thump of his heart, as the others made their way painfully slowly out of sight.

The others were _almost_ around the corner, stepping warily, and squinting in the directions of Harry and the dim shapes. It was clear that they were bewildered and frightened, as their eye's darted about, unable to focus, imitating a startled rabbit.

It was as they just moved under the cone of orange light from the street lamp that things went wrong.

Colin, who was shivering violently in the cold air, too intent staring blindly into the dark, didn't notice what was in the light, and stepped directly onto some left over broken glass.

With a tug on Hermione's hand, he slipped, and gave a startled yelp as he began to fall backwards, in a cacophony of grinding gravel and vocalisation.

The sound of crunching glass was enough to distract Harry to turn his head with a snap, and as soon as he did, he was rewarded by Hermione's shrill scream splitting the night.

She was staring right behind him, as Ron paled and yelled out "Holy shit!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry just about saw the clawed dark limb coming, and, ignoring the momentary thrill of terror that sent his heart pounding, he barely managed to jump out of the way, to land with grace a few feet away.

_Shit. _

Not good. Not good at all.

The spirit had burst out of the shadow it had been hiding in, darker than the night around it, even within the faded glow of the light above. Its white porcelain mask, with its slanted eyes seemed to glow menacingly. Harry clenched his fist hard enough to draw blood; visions of what had happened the last time he'd encountered these beings causing him to shiver even as he backed away with haste. This time, though he thought with a glance to the stricken faced and frozen humans, he couldn't afford to be distracted by his own fears.

He darted back with an irritated growl, and reached out, forcibly pushing Luna in the shoulder, towards the road. They had to leave, quickly.

"Go!"

None of them moved for a split second, but then, as if a spell had been broken, Ron gave a white nod, and dragged a petrified Hermione along with him, the others hurrying along after, while the Death Eater made the final few inches towards the brunette.

Snarling slightly as the close proximity gave off the sudden smell of rotting flesh, Harry found he didn't hesitate a moment as his hand automatically jumped to the gun hidden in his waistband. His mind was a blank numbness, as pale fingers closed around the cool handle, just as the spirit made contact, ripping its dark fingers into his forearm, leaving thick gouges as it began to try to pull him towards it, like reeling in a fishing line.

Fortunately, the creature's great strength wasn't enough to stop him struggling, even as blood dripped down his arm in red rivulets. He couldn't afford to panic now. Ignoring the increased, near frantic flutterings of his pulse, he pulled up the silver weapon, and squeezed remarkably gently.

'Bang-click.'

* * *

A single shot rang through the night, causing Ron to halt in his hurried steps to glance over his shoulder, just to see the great black _thing_ hiss and screech as it backed off back towards the wall, leaving a bent figure standing under the orange streetlight.

Ron paused, uncertain for a moment. Should he go back to help, or continue on with the others? He warred with himself, before convincing himself that Harry would catch up.

He couldn't bear to bring himself to move back there, no matter how he tried to deny it.

He couldn't ever remember experiencing this kind of raw, primeval _fear _before. Not once in his life. It was consuming, clouding his mind, and doing its hardest to freeze his limbs, and lock him in place. He could barely hear above the pounding of blood in his ears as his heart frantically beat like a motor. His thoughts were sluggish, reducing his ability to simply _think, _and the only decision he could come to was to avoid that _thing_ behind him, no matter the cost.

Another screech broke through his frenzied thoughts, and he looked back in growing trepidation to see Harry was nowhere in sight. He was just catching up, right?

He was just about to scream out for Harry to join them, to know where his friend was, when Luna shrieked from somewhere ahead of him. Ron frantically snapped his head forward, only to see-

"Oh shit!"

There was another one, and it had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, perhaps from one the side alleys that littered the street. The adrenalin pounded its way through his system as he ran forward, throbbing away like a drum beat. However, it almost felt as if he was moving through treacle, everything was so _slow, _taking forever to happen.

The creature seemed to lunge, a great black writhing mass of…_something_, topped with a white mask as a face, it eyes gleaming red behind them. Luna ran hastily back, for once her glazed eyes bright with emotion, forcefully bumping into Hermione as the creature made a vicious grab for her, hissing strangely as it missed its target. Luna squealed in pain as it just grazed past her, causing her to fall heavily against Hermione, sending the both of them tumbling to the floor, helpless.

Ron continued to move forward, not sure what he was going to do, what he _could _do, but sure he could…pull them away, keep them running, _something! _

The sense of being completely helpless was a foreign one to him; he had never quite experienced it like this before. He'd always before lived with the knowledge that he could help, but now, even as he ran to help, he had never felt more futile.

He heard distantly, as if cotton wool had filled his ears, as Luna shrieked as the creature sank its grip into her leg. There…there was nothing he could do. So _helpless. _

From the corner of his eye, his sight needlessly hazy, he saw Hermione crouch down, sobbing something as she attempted to pull the other girl free by her hands. But her actions were hopeless as well. Luna was calling back out to her, but he couldn't hear what was said, or screamed above the din. Colin was hovering like a twittering bird, eyes glazed over, doing nothing.

There was nothing, nothing to help at all. Ron gave a fleeting glance up the road, but couldn't spot Harry anywhere.

He span around in despair, as Hermione gave a frightened scream; Luna was being dragged back, sobbing. Blood was beginning to stain the ground underneath her, as the creature seemed to draw in a rattling breath of delight. It was a horrible sight, and he saw it like it was nothing more than a dream; fuzzy round the edges and as if it were not really happening.

He barely moved a single step, however, before yet another 'bang!' pierced through the scene. The dark _thing_ instantly crumpled back, hissing, as Luna was able to pull free.

Ron took no heed to the gunman as used the reprieve to dart forward the last few feet and he knelt to scoop up Luna, her leg in its lower portions tattered by long deep furrows, blood spilling down as she whimpered pitifully against his neck. He let her lean on a shoulder as they straightened up, and he followed her misty gaze to see Harry standing nearby. He immediately felt immense relief, disregarding the silver gun that lay innocuously in his hand.

Ron was just about to open his mouth, to speak, to demand an explanation, but Harry beat him to it, speaking in a flat tone.

"Let's go."

* * *

"Let's go."

The words were simple, and the others barely nodded, even if Ron felt out of his depth, and they promptly hurried off down the road as quickly as they were able, not wasting breath to speak or question.

Well, accept Ron.

"What the fuck _was_ that thing?!" Ron hissed out, finally finding his voice as they stumbled over the cobbles and loose stones that cluttered the middle of the street.

Harry spared him a glance; even the boy's freckles were pale, his blue eyes roving wildly, but didn't reply, much to the red head's indignation. Harry ignored the other's grimace.

Truthfully Harry thought it best not to open his mouth. The danger, combined with his Hunger, had drawn his fangs, and what with Luna bleeding all over the place, he wasn't sure if he could resist the coppery perfume that niggled on his self-control. It was bad enough that the adrenalin running through his veins was practically singing to him, telling him of his need to feed, to both sate his Hunger, and heal himself from the hurt on his arm. He clenched his teeth together in frustration, even as they began to peak past his lower lips.

Fuck, he really needed to feed. Badly.

He pushed the urge down with force, just like his panic, and jogged silently, glancing behind him sporadically, but he could not see the two spirits that had lingered there earlier. He couldn't much sense them at all, and it left him hopelessly on edge. He felt his pulse rise once more in reaction to the fear of the unknown- of not knowing where they were.

_Shit. _

He looked ahead; he could see the turning onto Blackwaters Street. They were close now, so close. But whether they'd make it was another matter. He gave a fleeting glace to the others, two of whom were limping worse than wounded soldiers. Colin was shaking worse than wet dog and he could barely make out Hermione at all, hidden behind the lopsided figure that was Luna and Ron.

He could do nothing more than continue to push the others along, towards Severus's.

The street echoed with their footsteps and Luna's whimpers of pain. Everything else was quiet, and it was enough to help nurture a false sense of security, that the worst was past and over now.

As it was, he sensed it no more than a split second before it appeared, right in front of them, and from the left. The girls screamed, and Ron let out a yell as he pulled them back with great difficulty from the initial pounce. Harry could smell the frantic and wild emotions in the air, pulling at his own hunting instincts, sending his heart beat into a freefall.

Cursing, Harry raised the gun for the third time, suddenly horribly aware of the limited number of bullets still left in the chamber. Two.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Removing any indecision from his mind, he surged forward; and shoved into Ron from behind, pushing him, and the others out of harm's way, only to be caught ferociously in the shoulder himself.

Uncaring to the blood soaking through his shirt at a steady pace, he still couldn't help the hiss that escaped him, baring his elongated canines in his anger, green eyes gleaming verdant. His Hunger was eroding any fear he possessed, leaving only immense frustration in its wake.

Couldn't they just get away?

Snarling, and with another hefty push, he used all of his remaining strength to shove the spirit into the dull brick wall that made up part of one the houses, and used the impact to push himself away from the scene with speed.

They were so close; just a little way more to run. The scent of blood was in the air, and Harry could empathise on how attractive a lure it was. He valiantly tried to relief the churning pressing in his stomach, but knew that he was in desperate need of reaching Severus's as well.

He looked ahead, and was relieved to see that the others had used the opportunity to run further on ahead, and by chance had turned the correct corner that would lead them on to safety.

Heart beating a pace against his ribs, Harry sprinted forward, easily outstripping the group to lead them down Blackwaters, though his body screamed in protest as it tried to heal both his arm and now shoulder with his severely limited supply of blood.

Gritting his teeth as they began to ache uncontrollably, he stamped a silent pace against the ground. He could hear Ron panting behind him, and some huffing from another. He sprinted on, ignoring the calls of their fearfully beating hearts, ever mindful of the still-in-pursuit Death Eater, who was gaining ground quick behind them, not deterred for long. He could almost feel it behind them.

So close.

With great relief, he finally swung left onto a short garden path, bashing his way straight through the small metal gate. Nearly banging into the heavy wooden door as he skidded to a halt, he dimly heard a jargon of sounds from behind. He didn't dare to look.

He barely paused for a moment, before he slapped his hand against the wood, the gun still lying limply in his other, forgotten for the time being.

"Severus," he hissed, knowing the other could hear him just fine, "for fuck's sake _open up!"_

The door remained close for a painful amount of time, though it couldn't have been that long in reality. Harry continued to bash unashamedly on the door; he wouldn't let Severus ignore him- for fuck's sake!

As it was, he nearly hit Severus in the face, as the door was inched open. Harry didn't bother for pleasantries, and roughly pushed himself inside, stumbling over the threshold. He quickly span around reaching out to grab a hold of the nearest person and flinging them inside. As Luna gave a startled cough as she was sent careering into a nearby bookcase, the others were rapidly shepherded inside, before the thick door was promptly rammed shut by Harry. There was a screech from outside, loud and nerve-rendingly close by; a jarring sound to raise the hairs on the back of the neck, and then, silence.

There were five released breaths of relief.

Sighing, Harry collapsed against the heavy wood, feeling the old contours and soft polish pressing into his back. He let his eyes slip closed as he allowed his heart rate return slowly to normal. Relief flooded through him. Leaving his limbs to shake slightly as the adrenalin left him. He almost felt as if he could simply collapse to the floor and fall asleep right that very second.

_Safe._

He would have been content to simply remain where he was all day, but his peace, however, was unfortunately rather cruelly short lived.

"Potter," came a poisonously silky voice, "may I enquire as to _what_ you are doing here, and dragging pathetic, terrified mortals along with you? I don't have the time to indulge in any silly little games of yours."

Harry opened his eyes tiredly, his stomach churning for sustenance, renewed in its vigour by the removal of imminent danger and possible death. He surveyed the close to seething Snape with hooded eyes, as well as the said mortals, who had clumped together like a flock of frightened sheep, glancing about their new environment with apprehension, crowding around Luna the most.

He was so tired…

With a groan of both frustration and longing, Harry pushed himself up from leaning against the door grudgingly and strode out to what Severus may class as the living room, the one full of rowed benches. A quick glance revealed it to be almost exactly the same as the last time he'd been here, the benches, the low desk at the front and the darkened wood that made up the panelled walls. The only real difference was the absence of bizarre ingredients from the desk, and the boiling fire behind extinguished, leaving a dusty cold grate instead.

Severus followed, instantly on his heels, swooping in very much like a bat. By his expression, it was clear that he far from appreciated the disturbance of his domain.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Draco sent me," he admitted after a short pause. At Snape's condescending look, he decided to elaborate a little for the man, "He has a visitor at the moment, and thought it best for me not to be present. I didn't think _they_ should either," he indicated the gathered humans with a jerk of the head. Severus merely snorted with contempt, but didn't refute him.

Harry pressed on wearily; he was in desperate need of a feed, and thought that should be the priority, but Snape just _had _to be difficult immediately. They'd barely escaped death mere moments ago, and he had to explain to this _impossible _man. He could feel a headache coming on.

"Anyway, the place is crawling with Death Eaters at the moment, so I'm afraid they're going to have to stay here."

If Harry saw the ever-deepening scowl on the other man's face, he didn't make a mention of it, or change his tone. Truthfully, he couldn't be bothered at the minute to be polite. Severus never was with him anyway.

"Though," he muttered, suddenly feeling a lot more embarrassed, "you don't happen to have any blood lying about do you?"

He tried to keep his voice as low as possible, alienating the others from the vampire's conversation. Snape's brow furrowed further, but Harry was sure it was more thought and annoyance, than too much anger on his part. With Severus, it could be a bit hard to tell between his irritated facial expressions.

The man sneered down at him, "Why don't you just use one of your little mortal friends Potter?"

Harry fixed him with a hard gaze, "One, they are not my 'friends'" it was nothing but the truth, " and second, there's no need to get them even more hysterical than they already are."

Severus glanced over to them, as if weighing what the younger vampire said was true. It was clear he was debating whether it was worth having screaming humans in his home. It was a long moment, and Harry desperately wished the man to just accept. The gnawing sensation was beginning to drive him mad, bouncing around his mind, and pressing against his temples with ferocious intent.

With a soft noise of irritation, Severus seemed to decide something, and promptly swept away out a door, leaving a small stream of dust in his wake, before returning almost immediately.

He practically threw one of the hospital order blood packs at him, catching him in the chest.

"And tell your dearest _sire _not to send you over here again." And with one last look of utter disdain at the situation, Severus disappeared through one of the many doors that connected that room to the next, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Not much caring much about Severus's harsh demeanour, and much more absorbed with the chilled blood in hand, Harry brought it up to his mouth, using a sharp incisor to rip through the plastic with vicious haste.

He leaned back against the desk, unheeding to the wide stares as he tipped it back, letting the dark crimson liquid slide down his throat all in one go, much like as if he was forcibly taking medicine.

It held some of the sweet coppery tang he was already getting more than used to, but any _life_ in it had long ago faded, leaving a somewhat stale aftertaste in his mouth. It did the job fine, easing the pains of his stomach, but now that he was aware what blood could taste like _fresh_, he was determined never to have to drink from damn blood bags again.

Giving his teeth a quick lick, along with the corners of his mouth, he threw down the empty wrap of plastic in disgust.

It was only then he became fully aware of the intense gazes set upon him. Glancing up, he swallowed uncomfortably as he was met by four horrified and stunned sets of eyes.

…Well fuck.

* * *

**A/N: Well, Harry'll have some hard time explaining _that_, won't he? #giggles. Anyway, next chapter should be up soon (and with better quality too i promise). Well, don't be afraid to review, i always like what you have to say, and i'll update soon. Oh! And next chapter, we get to see Lucius...tasty huh?**


	26. The Glass Tips

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Hi! I know you're probably all preparing to lynch me, but i'm really, really sorry that this is so late. Over two months! I've just had a really bad block on this chapter, and for the story in general, but with so little left to go, i just had to push myself to finish it. So, here is the next chapter, and thankyou all very much for the reviews, i love them all dearly. **

Warnings: SLASH, creepy houses, and hot blondy vampires.

* * *

**The Glass Tips**

Silence.

It echoed around the far reaches of the room, almost tangible as it fell like a heavy weight upon them.

Harry couldn't find it in himself to move a single inch, captivated by the horrified stares of his former friends. If any remaining doubt had lingered, their faces would have squashed it into nothing. As it was, when their voices finally cried out, he felt nothing inside.

"H-Harry…" called out Hermione's voice, shaking in a terrified quaver, "What, what did you just _do?"_

The whisper broke half way through, like a squeaking mouse as she held her hands to her mouth, staring at him with such an impenetrable look of incredulity. Ron couldn't remove his eyes from the empty blood packet on the desk, his fists clenched and shaking.

Harry didn't even bother to avert his eyes of the girl's as he replied.

"It's- it's nothing. It doesn't matter…"

His words felt hollow even to himself, his mind oddly blank, as if his consciousness had simply decided to float out his body rather than possibly try to deal with the ensuing chaos. All he saw was trouble and pain.

Hermione shrieked.

"What do you mean, _nothing?!_ You just drank _blood!_ That's from a hospital, why would you-?!"

She cut herself off, misty brown eyes rounding in horrible comprehension, and Harry felt at a loss as she drifted back a few steps to stumble into Colin. Away from him.

Ron continued to shake with every word, his head titled to the floor to hide his expression, while Luna stared at him with unusually keen eyes. The usually misty blue full with a dreadful clarity.

Harry let loose a bitter chuckle, folded his arms and stared listlessly at the dirty floorboards. He'd known that he wasn't a part of their human world anymore, but he'd hoped, somewhat vainly, that it wouldn't come so soon that he would have to face such sickened faces. And from people who used to the most important to him. It was a stab in his mind, rather than his heart.

"I guess you could say I've changed- I'm sure you've noticed it," he said absently feeling almost darkly satisfied in horrifying them so much. However, his insidiously calm nature just seemed to set off the bushy haired woman even more, like an insult, he had offended her.

"Changed?! You- you…What the hell _happened_ to you?! You never used to be like this! Why…" she uttered miserably, both raging and sobbing, tears running down her face. It was clear she couldn't comprehend how someone she knew so well, could suddenly so different. There was no logic she could find.

"I told you not to come here…" he muttered, repeating his words to her from earlier. It would have all been so much easier if they hadn't come to retrieve him, if they'd simply disappeared, melded into the background of passing people, barely a passing thought. Where he wouldn't have had to say goodbye, and in such a manner too. His heart still beat, though to a different tune, and being reviled as a monster wasn't on top of his list that he cherished. He felt a distinct unease as he stood there, not being able to bring himself to reply to her anymore. He was almost vulnerable, as he remained quietly where he was, under their scrupulous scrutiny. Not that they could see that, too involved within their own fears.

"You…you're a…a…" stuttered Hermione, having easily caught the lengthened canines when he drank that blood, _human blood_, as if it where nothing more than water. It all made a sick sort of sense in her head; his odd behaviour and distance, the pale skin and strange new, almost unnatural beauty; the grace about him. She'd never once believed that vampires could exist before, but after what she'd seen that night, being chased by beings she couldn't even begin to name, she was left with the notion that nothing would ever take her by surprise again. Even that now, her friend…was gone.

Simply gone.

"A _vampire_."

Harry glanced up, towards Ron who had finally found his voice, trembling with anger and rage. He could practically taste it coming off the red head. He said not a word, merely staring silently. The young man was white as a sheet, different connections firing in his head that filled him with the need to storm and rage.

Ron choked, collecting himself as he raised his head to fix a furious glare on his old friend. A friend no more in his eyes.

"You," he spat, shaking from head to toe, his teeth gritted together "You know, don't you? About what happened to Ginny? What happened to _my sister!"_

Looking him in the face, Harry couldn't bring himself to open his mouth, paralysed with sensations he could no longer name or categorise, but which robbed him of his speech as his former best friend fixed him with a look of uttermost hatred, his expression mutated into an ugly, feral snarl.

"She was so _pale_…like all the blood was simply drained away from her…" he grit his teeth ferociously as he saw his little sister's image in his mind's eye, pale and cold and _dead_. The mere thought sent him leaping into sudden movement all at once, rushing the vampire leaning _oh-so casually_ against that bloody desk.

He lunged to reach out and grab fistfuls of the brunette's shirt, jerking the smaller man towards him to growl in his face, murderous thoughts swimming in his head.

"You! Were you the one who killed her? Were you the one who…" his voice peaked and cracked, broken into tiny pieces as he stared with wet, wild eyes, seeking answers so feverishly. For, he finally had an outlet for the blame and guilt that ate him from the inside.

However, somewhere in the back of his mind, a part of Harry bristled to be held by a mortal, to be demanded of; he didn't like it, and the little wedge of pride rose to the surface as anger and irritation, fuelling his ire. He reached up to clutch onto Ron's wrists, easily gripping hard enough to cause the bone to crack ominously. The sound filled the room, and Hermione let out a dry sob.

"Let go of me," he hissed, green eyes gleaming a warning verdant, "I didn't kill your sister- that wasn't _me, _so remove yourself."

Ron stumbled back; stunned as Harry effortlessly pushed him away, releasing sore wrists. He rubbed them incredulously as he peered at Harry, a new emotion beginning to roll though his eyes; fear. He stumbled and the knowledge that it was a vampire in front of him shook him deeply. Thoughts of Ginny momentarily pushed aside.

The part of Harry that should have been repulsed at such an emotion directed at him was conspicuously missing, as he felt nothing but satisfaction. Uneasy about this revelation, he turned determinedly away from them all, ignoring the way Hermione hiccupped, her voice lodged in her throat for now. They huddled closer together, but Harry paid little attention, for he was now intensely focused on something else entirely, that had been nagging at him ever since he'd left Draco's side earlier that evening.

Had it really only been that long? It felt almost like forever, and his entire body seemed to writhe at the distance. He had been fighting an irresistible pull to return to his sire, which had only been quenched by his need for blood and sustenance. But now that urge had been assuaged (if only temporarily) then the maddening itch was back to hover over his shoulders, the dark feeling in his gut that had been lingering all day refusing to dissipate.

He refrained from the need to pace out the overwhelming desire to go running back to Draco.

"Harry…?"

He ignored the tremulous enquiry, merely glancing to them, before he determinedly walked through the door from which Severus had exited earlier. If the mortals were sensible, they would know to stay put.

Stepping out, he quickly recognised it as the slightly more lushly decorated living room and he just as rapidly spied the older vampire sitting near the fire, muttering irritably to himself as he sat hunched with a book in hand.

Harry approached cautiously, feeling inexplicably nervous and jumpy all of a sudden as he made his way past the towering, overfilled bookshelves to stand by the hearth.

"Severus?" he called, though the older man did not reply.

"I-I need to go and-"

He halted, as Severus rose from the hunched armchair, for one moment reminding all too well of an overgrown bat. However, bat or no, he still cut an impressive figure. Though it didn't hold a candle to Draco, in Harry's own personal opinion.

"Most certainly not. You're not going anywhere, do you understand me?"

Snape's voice cut through the soft crackling of the fire like ice, a deadly velvet.

Harry shook his head and Severus hissed, irritated. How perfectly wonderful he thought spitefully, Draco sends the little fledgling down for him to baby-sit, and said idiot wishes to wander right back. He didn't much care for the Potter in front of him, but he owed Draco enough to keep the boy out of harm's way.

"I don't really care what you say- I've got to get back."

Dark eyes, like black holes swallowed him up in their gaze, causing him to shudder under their impenetrable gaze. He couldn't shake the feeling that those eyes could delve into his mind and have all his secrets bare for the world to see.

"And just why might that be?" asked Severus in a mocking tone that carried over easily.

Harry frowned to himself, but was not dissuaded by the other's attitude, feeling confidence begin to seep back into his spine.

"I don't know the rhyme or reason for it, I just desperately feel that _I need _to get back to Draco. And you are hardly going to stop me."

The words were braver than he felt, as he had no doubt that Severus could indeed prevent his leave very easily. Half expecting to be forcibly restrained in some way or another, he was surprised when Severus simply made another noise of dissatisfaction that could be mistaken for something deadly poisonous.

"Stupid boy…Do what you like- if you get killed its not my fault in the slightest. And when Draco becomes angered by it, that also has nothing to do with me."

And with that he dismissed him, letting Harry slip out the room, and the door, feeling a distinct rise in annoyance when he remembered the little flock of sheep that nuisance had brought along with him. Hopefully they would remain quiet; or he'd have to force them.

"Harry…? Where, where are you going? Harry?!"

Massaging his temples, Severus cast a wary glance after the younger vampire, feeling an old and familiar weariness wash over him, settling deep in his bones. Draco should have known better, like the boy would be able to resist immediately returning to his sire's side. And he certainly wouldn't be bothered to stop the inevitable. Draco may have bought some time, but his little toy couldn't be kept out of danger, no matter what he seemed to think.

He snorted to himself, it could only be hoped that Lucius was in one of his better moods; that man, once a dear friend had become deeply twisted to gain the power he held. Now so unpredictable that even his own family could barely tolerate his presence. He absently hoped that his old friend from centuries past wouldn't kill his godson's pet. After all, Draco deserved the chance to have a little fun, a little happiness. For despite his distaste of the little thing, he couldn't deny that some company would be good for Draco, much better than he'd been doing so far at any rate.

Severus settled himself back into his armchair, picking up his book only half heartedly, thoughts elsewhere.

This was all Lucuis's fault in the first place he thought cynically as he stared deep into the heart of the fire as it danced in the hearth, his face set in a deep frown.

And that man had a lot to make up for.

* * *

The curtains, soft silk embroidered in delicate patterns, now tattered with age quivered against the open window. Though clouds lingered overhead, rain was nowhere to be seen, letting the fabric flutter as gently as a butterfly wing, without the chance of damp.

It cast a corresponding shadow on the wood flooring, the varnish long gone, giving the room an eerie cast. Though the figure that lay unmoving, pristine in the beauty of death upon the stiff couch managed fine all on her own. Her skin was papery white, and just as delicate, empty veins standing out against her skin, her red hair falling like a flash of fire over the armrest in a waterfall.

A silent witness to his entrance.

A clap of thunder bellowed from overhead, the accompanying flash of lightning sending the shadows scuttling out of sight, leaving an imposing figure of a man standing in the doorway.

He stood unmoving, surveying the room with a lucid eye, light breaths inhaling the scent of blood, new and old. This room used to be the main reception room, for talks both formal and idle. With such magnificent furniture, the best of the best, and silks all the way from depths of the Middle East. Yet now, its former splendour was spent, leaving it a dry shell of its former self.

Still, it had its quirks, as his silver gaze settled on the figure resting so delicately. He leisurely walked into the room, gliding on silent feet that sent even the dust scurrying. A long, pale finger, sharp in its keenness, traced the faded cotton, all the way up to fire hair and smooth white cheeks.

Such a pity she was already dead.

He lingered over her form for several long moments; time stretched to accommodate his passing inspection, thick and heavy like a stiff wool blanket.

More thunder rumbled discontentedly from high above, and the mysterious figure raised his head, eyes narrowing in satisfaction as the one of the hand painted doors inched open, to reveal another. Grey eyes met grey, and the silence went taught as a bowstring, ready to snap at a moments' notice.

A tight, yet curved smile alighted stone features.

"Ahh," a silky voice crooned, "Draco, you're here."

Similar silver eyes stared back at him, not a single thought or feeling betrayed on his sculpted face.

"Father."

Lucius's face twisted into an expression of amusement, yet his eyes only held repressed anticipation, which unknowingly sent chills down his son's spine. Such a delight.

"You don't look happy to see me Draco," he sighed, "and to see that pains me so. You used to adore it when I saw you…"

Draco made no move to enter the room any further, or to reply, merely watching with blank eyes. Not even a twitch over bitter old memories. His father appeared to grow bored quickly, when he incited no reaction, turning his attention back to the strewn figure on the sofa, twisting a lock of deep red hair nimbly between long fingers. His dead silver eyes, a cold grey that sucked any warmth from his face, surveyed her dispassionately.

"I'm surprised she's still here_,_ you usually clean up after yourself," Lucius glanced up, "Or perhaps you simply ran out of _time…_you must be busy after all."

The comment was light, and seemingly innocent, but Draco tensed as if struck, the truth remaining hidden in plain sight, like a serpent in long grass.

"I just hadn't got round to it yet," he replied stiffly, watching with an deep gaze as his father moved slowly, yet at the same time swiftly; a paradox within itself, towards one of the armchairs, seating himself as if upon a throne. He waited patiently as the man inspected the worn and cracked leather before settling down.

Lucius appeared to almost hum to himself as he did so, gently removing a platinum white lock of hair to adjust it from the side of his face.

"Somehow Draco, I don't believe you. Oh, you're not lying to me" he added, upon seeing his son's face move to interject, "you know better than that…but you're not being completely honest with me either…And you know why I'm here. I just want to know how you're doing, that's all."

Draco refrained from shivering, his dead heart forcibly restrained from giving his fear away, despite its furious insistence to beat as harshly as it desired. The look Lucius pinned him with was full of shadows and dark secrets, and most terrible of all, an instinctual _knowing _that left him as trapped as a mouse in a maze. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and flee. To get away from that unnerving stare that rocked all his doubts and worries to the surface, washing all his power and confidence away till he was nothing more than a vulnerable boy once again, who was powerless to do anything at all.

Instead, however, he merely swallowed, his deepest thoughts and desired hidden and cloistered away behind steely iron walls. He could deal with this; he'd done it before. Lucius would be gone as soon as he came. Just a little patience.

However, what caused him to mentally sweat was the knowledge that sooner or later his darling little charmant would be pulled back to him, like a slingshot of a rubber ball. And if Lucius were still here, things would descend rapidly into a dire direction.

His father didn't take well to those outside the family.

Or surprises.

"So, are you going to tell your concerned father what you've been up to, hmm?"

Draco moved to enter further into the room himself, using the dead form of Ginny Weasley to momentarily distract him, if only for a moment. So far, his father seemed to be in one of his good moods, and he'd hate to spoil it with just a single, ill worded response. Speaking with Lucius was always an exercise in well-structured, well-practiced conversations.

"Nothing much, it's all really the same. I don't know why you feel the need to check on me so, I'm quite fine as it is," he finally spoke absently, turning casually to his father.

Or so he hoped.

"Hmm," Lucius tilted his head, using that stare of his again, seeming to look into him, through and beyond. For all Draco knew, he was.

"Nothing different from usual you say?"

Draco nodded listlessly, hoping his calm would pass onto his father, soothing his psyche like cool water.

"So no new…friends?"

Draco felt something twist in his chest, and no force could prevent his sharp, lightning reply, "Friends?"

Lucius was peering at him unreadably, though his face held something of a satisfied smirk upon it, weaving his face together.

And as he trapped the younger in his keen gaze, Draco couldn't help but compare him to an angered viper, flashing its fangs before an unavoidable strike.

"Why yes Draco, new friends. Or maybe just one in particular…" he trailed off, his lilting voice chilling the room. The man appeared somewhat disinterested with the conversation, as if it held no meaning to him, but Draco had learnt from that past that this simply indicated that his father was less stable than usual, and was most angry.

Which did not bode well for him, but worst of all for Harry.

As Draco met that man's cool gaze, he could only hope that Severus would hold him up.

* * *

Harry burst through the door, unheeding to the chirping calls of Hermione that echoed behind him. He snuck looks through the dark night, wary of any of the Death Eaters that were undoubtedly still roaming about, eager to sink themselves into him once again. Their presence, now that he thought about it, would be quite a hindrance in his journey back to the house, and to Draco.

He only had a few more bullets left inside the barrel of the gun, placed safely inside his waistband, and he wasn't sure if he could outrun them if it came down to it. After all, even if he managed to reach the house, they wouldn't stop their chase, and Draco had the rage-inducing habit of being conspicuously hard to find. Even if he did have a houseguest.

So he was forced to remain in the shadow of the door, ideas running through his head nearly as quickly as he discarded them, frustration pumping through him like he breathed it, mounting ever higher as he could find no definite solution to his plight.

The intense need to return to his sire was becoming almost painful in its intensity, gnawing away at his insides. His skin was itchy and he had trouble keeping his legs still as they began to jitter in impatience.

He scowled. He was a vampire for fuck's sake! He should not be impeded by a few mere spirits! Neither Draco nor Severus seemed bothered by them, and it was galling to still need assistance now that he was no longer human. He was a vampire just the same as them.

He growled under his breath, a faint idea coming to him from the depths of his consciousness. Mulling it over, he quickly decided to at least try it, knowing -or rather hoping-that it wouldn't hurt. He backed into the shadow of the door further, still keeping a wary eye on the street.

He'd seen Draco do this plenty of times. It couldn't be that hard, now could it? Even the Death Eaters appeared able to perform something of the like. Just use a shadow to hop into another one. Simple.

Of course, he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to even _start_ to go about it, but he was determined, his green eyes set in a steely glint.

After all, how fucking hard could it be?

He backed into the shadow's grasp, heart hammering and desperately hiding the disappointment that it hadn't been as simple as just 'think where you want to go and get there'. Nothing was ever quite _that_ easy.

He scowled.

He decided to try to focus trying to sense…something, be it from the shadow, or even himself, willing himself to concentrate on simply moving…but without moving.

…Argh!

Fuck, that didn't even make sense, he thought with a contorted frown. Suffice to say, his attempt yielded nothing at all, except increased annoyance. He didn't have the time to just hang around!

He grit his teeth and attempted to focus more internally. Perhaps, if he had an image fixed in his mind of where he wanted to go? Or some sort of force, or _something_.

Sighing, Harry closed his eyes, and pushed himself as far back to the shadow encroached wall as possible, backing up to the brick, trying to keep in mind with all his might the image of his destination, fuelled by his aching desire to get back to Draco. His cooled, lukewarm body began to heat- if he were human he would have been sweating, teeth grit in consternation as nothing seemed to happen.

On and on, the seconds stretching into forever, he was just about to give up with a shout of frustration when he fleet something ripple over his skin, not entirely pleasantly. It felt more like ice-cold needles prickling across him to be honest, but he didn't dare move, or even open his eyes, just in case it broke the sudden circumstance.

So lost was he in the strange sensation wrapping him up in a decidedly very uncomfortable blanket, that he didn't initially realise that he was, slowly at first, but then faster, blending in to the darkness around him, his form whisping away and out of sight.

Only when he felt his limbs chill to freezing did his eyes snap open just in time to witness the view of the street disappearing in a whirling flash, replaced instead with a swathe of sheer blackness. He could neither hear, nor feel a thing, and for a terrifying moment he panicked, afraid he would be stuck in an endless limbo. But nearly as soon as it'd come, the darkness obscuring his eyes began to recede.

And, gasping, he fell to the ground, dust and dried mud clinging to him, his chest aching slightly from the compression.

Dimly, from somewhere above he heard the flutter and coo of wood pigeons.

Looking up, he let out a breath; amazed to see himself kneeling in the entrance hall of the manor, vine ridden stairway, dirtied marble floor and all. He blinked in dazed relief.

Glancing behind him, he surmised that he'd travelled through the shadow cast by one of the huge wooden doors to the outside gardens. And he'd just, only moments ago, been at Severus's.

Feeling momentarily elated with his success, he scrambled to his feet, a laugh threatening to bubble to the surface. However, before it could be released he felt a menacing chill choke it before it could begin, as it raced up his spine to settle at the back of his neck.

Instantly the foreboding sensation in his stomach returned, and he was refilled with a sudden urgency to find Draco. And as fast as possible, luck willing. Something wasn't right, even more so than he had first thought earlier that evening. It was a cloying sensation, that made his chest tight for breath, even though breathing was a mortal function that he could do without. The walls seemed oddly closer around him, even in the vast entrance hall than they had before and he immediately began to move away.

Without much thought, he instantly made his way across the entrance hall and through a doorway on the right, at a brisk pace with purpose, as if led by some sort of irresistible pull. He paid it little mind as he finally came to a halt beside the door that led to the living room he'd been seated in not a few hours before; where he knew Ginny's body to lie.

He paused on the threshold, unknowing really as to why, the tight feeling rising to a crescendo within him, his throat closed up and his mouth dry. It was then that a silky voice, laden with cold amusement rang out.

"Ah, there he is now. Won't you introduce me Draco?"

As the door seemingly swung open all by itself, revealing him completely to the room's inhabitants, Harry caught the distinct impression that he shouldn't have come after all.

* * *

**A/N: So, Lucius is finally here, and i hate to leave you all on such a nasty cliffie after so long, but there really was no good place to end this chapter in the coming scene. After all, things are about to get sticky!**

**Next chapter should not be such a long wait at all, rather a normal update time, and despite my absence of late, i would really like to hear from all of you in the reviews. And yes, i am well aware i'm a bad, bad author for having such a slow update. Apart from that, i hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	27. Broken Clocks

Dislcaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Not so long to wait this time! And this is the final chapter! There is of course, the epilogue, but i'll talk more about that at the end. For now, read, enjoy and dont forget to comment. Thankyou all very much for your reviews last chapter, and i hope this one doesn't dissapoint!**

Warnings: Violence, Lucius and Slash.

* * *

**Broken Clocks**

Harry stood, frozen as a rabbit in the doorway, awaiting the pistol to be shot, the bullet to be fired.

His eyes were set on the man sitting so leisurely, limbs spread so elegantly, over the tight leather of the armchair. White hair hung, gleaming silver in the moonlight that streamed through the window, past the softly flapping curtain.

Time stood still, as it always does in times like these, where the prey can do nothing but remain, motionless as it heart beats out a frantic pace, making up for all the beats that may soon be cut short, pupils dilated to keep the hunter in sight.

No breath sounded in the room, as still and silent as a millpond, only disturbed by the gentle ripple of a leaf, gently brushing against its surface.

In this case, the leaf was seen upon the cold face, as pale lips stretched to an indulgent smirk. A precursor to chaos.

"Now, _Harry _isn't it, why don't you come here? It would be nice to see you better; the creature that my dear son has found so…_enrapturing."_

The voice slid as silk through the air, and Harry swallowed fretfully, glancing widened eyes to his sire's direction. The younger blond said and did nothing, a curios, tightly closed expression warping his face, grey eyes as desolate as artic plains.

Jittery, he stepped lightly into the room, looking fixedly at Ginny's dead form in an excuse not to look at the man watching his every move so intently.

This was Draco's father…the man that Narcissa had wished to speak to Draco about all those days ago in Paris. They looked remarkably similar, pale complexion, flaxen hair and grey, penetrating eyes. Though, if questioned, he would say that Draco inherited more of his mother than his father. At any rate, the vampire gave off a very different feeling than the one he was used to.

A much greater difference.

As he hesitantly crept forward, at a loss of what else he could do, he felt a chill enter his body, damp and cold; the unrelenting type that usually comes with illness, seeping deep into the bones. It made him shiver, and jerk slightly, a great weight upon his chest that felt like to choke him, even though he possessed no need to draw breath to his lungs.

As he chanced a look upwards, he couldn't help but tremble as the intense wave of pressure washed over him from head to toe, bathing him in icy fingers. As he finally met those keen eyes, he could have sworn the image of blood, freshly spilled and staining white snow, flashed across his mind, making him hitch in his steps.

Halting for just a moment, he found himself unable to move once again to push himself forward, and so remained where he was.

Lucius seemed almost amused by the child's stuttering, but it was a cold amusement, the type kept by cats for their mice.

This was it? This was the weak, pathetic little thing that had caught his son's attention? How pitifully pointless.

Draco should know better, to at least find something that could have a semblance of worth.

Ahhh, what to do, what to do?

Really, to be considered a good father, he should do his son a favour.

And remove unsightly, unnecessary things that could distract him.

Half lidded eyes slid over to observe Draco's figure; his posture tight and antsy, not unlike waiting for a bomb to fall; maybe the boy knew it…

He paid the other little attention however, and returned his sights to the creature before him, whose luminous green eyes were boring into his side. Such an annoyance.

He rose, without hurry, from the armchair, leather creaking a little in his wake. Smooth steps echoed silently in the room, and Harry balked as he saw Lucius come closer.

He attempted to back up when his personal space was violated but he was too slow, and before he tottered back more than a few meagre steps, his face was caught between long cold fingers, the chill of death not brining even a maudlin lukewarm to his flesh.

As one pointed nail traced his cheek, grey eyes peering deep within him, he couldn't help but shiver, a pit replacing his stomach, leaving him hollow and cold inside, like a numb doll.

He couldn't even break the stare a flicker to see Draco, as he was caught like a fish in a barrel. There was something vicious in those eyes- hating.

Hate for him.

Which made it impossible to get away.

His heart beat against his wishes, a frantic pace, like a beat, a deadly beat of rhythm.

For he could only see one thing in those eyes; death.

More specifically, his own.

It made every instinct scream out to him, furious. Even his newly awakened vampiric pride was cowed, pleading pathetically to dart away from this danger, to the safe embrace of his sire, who surely would not turn him away, but keep him safe, where the end of his short existence would not be nigh.

Fingers twitching, he finally kick started his limbs to do just that, turning as he moved to run. However, he was prematurely jerked back, a death grip on his wrist. Looking back to see vine-like fingers clasped around his suddenly small and fragile wrist.

"Where are you going? I haven't decided what to do with you yet…"

Liar, lies, he could see it, plain as day what Lucius had decided for him, for a reason he couldn't fathom.

"Father…" warned Draco, his first words in what seemed like days.

But Lucius completely ignored his son's rebuke, all attention fixed firmly on the young vampire in his grasp. His features, an icy beauty that was stirred to ugliness in rising anger.

Harry couldn't form a single word, as he was yanked mere inches away from the far older, powerful vampire before him. He had only wanted to return to Draco, nothing more or less; a simple desire easy to fulfil. But at this rate, it appeared that he may never see his beloved sire again, and the feeling of loss that brought to his dead, morose heart was almost unbearable.

He didn't want to die, but trapped as he was, against someone impossibly stronger than himself, he could see nothing else in his future.

…

Why?

Why was he just standing there?

Lucius's face, which had up till now retained a stony, contemptuous indifference, suddenly started to curl, revealing a mask of fury in its wake, fangs bared in a way more menacing than he had ever before seen.

"I just can't see it! What on earth would _my son_ would want with a miserable creature such as yourself!"

His head snapped to the side, fixing Draco himself in its glare.

"And you," he announced frigidly, "should know better than to forge worthless ties such as these!"

And then Harry was under the forceful weight of those eyes, that face and it was all he could do not to yelp as he suddenly was flung as easily as a rag doll, flying through the air, over and over, till he came crashing down in a flurry of stars through a table, the wood breaking to splinters, and on towards an ancient cupboard.

The ceiling shook free some centuries of dust as the room shuddered with the impact, letting it fall like a spider web carpet to the floor.

Wood creaked and crashed, and snapped, and all was still.

Harry felt no pain at first, only a blank numbness that kept his limbs still and limp, his head flopping and eyes unblinking. Then, after seconds that lasted hours yet no time at all, the pain began, stabbing his back repeatedly.

The sooty dust of old, broken wood filled his nose, and as he tumbled down through the broken beams to a heap on the floor he hacked, chest heaving, until blood, thick and deep, erupted in a spout to coat the dust covered floor below. In the light from the open window, it looked almost beautiful, he thought dazedly, head swimming.

"Tch. He can't even die properly…you really are a worthless child."

Upon seeing that the boy was still alive, Lucius carelessly moved forward, languid steps that made no sound. Harry could barely comprehend the force that sent him flying, nor the ominous hand that reached for him. There was no hope that he could move away in time; he was too young, fresh and new to look after himself, or stand up to anyone of the vampire circle. The only reliance he had was upon Draco, his sire.

Who, with gritted teeth, insides twisting, undulating with thick threads of rage and spite, broke the reaching hand from its intended destination.

Lucius looked up, surprise flashing briefly before anger set his features once more as his hand was fisted in an iron grip by the younger blond that was now in standing before him. Between him and his prey.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he demanded.

Draco's face remained stony, never wavering.

"You have no right to interfere with _my business. _What are _you _doing?"

Lucius hissed at the impertinence, eyes flashing bloodlust red.

"_I _am merely removing an unwanted, unneeded obstacle from your path…you should be thankful."

Silver eyes shone in the dark, everything still save for the fluttering curtain.

"And I should decide _**what is required or not!"**_

Fangs bared and teeth flashing, Harry could barely watch through hazy, filmed eyes as Draco shoved against his father, and next moment he knew, they had slammed forcefully through the opposite wall, ancient bricks and plaster tumbling down in a dust filled cloud, obscuring the quarrelling vampires from sight.

A snarl was issued, and a hiss replied, thuds reigned down out of his line of sight, and the sound of crumbling furniture could be heard.

Harry weakly rolled himself onto his stomach, head pressed against the floorboards, attempting to clear his chest. He spat once again, thick, clotted blood dripping from between his lips. He stared dispassionately at it, as his body ached with the strain. He had never really fed properly; Draco was something to keep him going, the lifeless blood packs from the hospital no true substitute. His body was already weakened and the knowledge that his sire was in danger drained the strength and will from his limbs like leeches.

The pain dulled his senses, and he barely lifted his head as he felt the immense weight of a vampire's powers descend upon him. There was another crash he didn't see, a hissing snarl of anger, and then soft footsteps that halted right next to him.

He didn't have to look to know that it wasn't Draco.

He writhed half heartedly as he was dragged up, a chokehold on his neck.

"Such a pitiful creature you are…so weak and _fragile_ within my grasp…"

The mused words rang within his skull.

Images flashed before him, short and sharp, as crisp as if he was truly revisiting them.

Draco…

The man, vampire…who changed his life so much for the better, who gave him a second chance, and provided such care, love even, for him.

His beloved sire…he didn't want to leave him!

He began to struggle more ferociously, but Lucius didn't even flicker as he held him pinned, well up in the air, seeming amused by the vain flails of his small, pathetic prey.

"There's no use for it…"

He would take such delight, in squeezing the pale, lithe little throat; watch the light die from his eyes. Maybe he would crack his limbs first though…it would be so wonderful to see him fold, like paper in his hands.

He tightened his grip further; thick, sharp nails digging in to pierce the skin, sending dark rivulets of blood to drip morosely down.

Blood.

It was all over him.

The wood had chipped and scrapped him, leaving bloody scratches. And the back of the dresser had smashed his head open, leaving a thick, matted clot of blood, which soaked through his hair and down his face. Another piece of ancient wood had broken and splintered, right through the boy's stomach, just below the chest, leaving a sickly gouge in its wake, leaving another wound for that pretty red to drip oh so carelessly from.

Beautiful.

Red, in all its dark hues, gleaming like rubies against pale, creamy skin.

In death, he would be just as beautiful, no, more so, than the girl lying on the sofa.

Death was so wondrously fickle like that; a delight to see.

He could almost taste it, in the air. A tantalising aroma that called him; just a little tighter and the boy's neck would snap, as easy as a fragile songbird's.

"Enough."

He was just mere moments away when he was rammed away from his prize.

His eyes widened in disappointment as he was flung away from his reward, a ruffled Draco blocking the view as Harry crumpled to the ground.

The younger blond was practically glowing with dark energy, a monster left to stare murderous with red eyes that gleamed.

As to be expected of his son.

Lucius came to a graceful landing, but remained where he was, crouched by the doorway. He cocked his head a moment, surveying Draco with unseeing eyes.

He summed up the pros and cons… more than a little irritated that Draco was actually putting up the effort to protect the weak little creature.

He cast another curios glance to the huddled, bloodied brunette on the floor. Perhaps there may be something else to him; perhaps it would do to wait a while, until the boy could put up a fight himself. It could be interesting, and most definitely worthwhile for proper prey.

Yes…and he felt no need to detour and fight with his son any longer, no matter how foolish he thought him to be.

"How aggravating…"

He cast one more last glace at the pair of them, before, he simply vanished, the dust swirling in his wake.

The curtain flapped once more, before going still, the only sound Harry's desperate pants, as Draco stood unyielding in front of him, every muscle tensed to strike.

Minutes ticked by, and nothing came, save for the ever ticking sands of time.

Licking caked, and dry lips, Harry managed a hoarse whisper.

"Is he gone…?"

Draco, eyes no longer red, but still shining with quicksilver, turned to him slowly, observing his heavily injured charmant.

He was alive, and would live…but only just.

Draco wasn't sure to be grateful for Harry's condition, or not.

But, instead of pondering it, he simply moved forward, crouching down as he brought his arms about Harry's twitching shoulders, bringing the damaged body as close as possibly to his own.

Even weak as he was, Harry managed to turn in the embrace, burying his head into the other's chest, taking solace in the familiar comfort, the familiar scent. The soft, crystal tears of relief that spilled unbidden from his eyes went unmentioned as Draco slowly lifted him from the floor n his arms, cradling him gently like a child.

"It's alright now…so hush…"

The soft, calming feel of lips on his forehead were enough to lull him out of consciousness, and his last knowledge was of darkness wrapping round the both of them, and then no more.

* * *

It was a crisp autumnal morning, with frost glazing the grass blades and their breaths coming out as billows of white clouds. It was a silent morning, with no sound of bird's twittering, only the scrape of shoes on gravel pavement and the skid of cases.

Hermione pulled a lock of bushy hair from her face as she bent over next to the car door, glancing towards Ron, who was walking towards them, face pale as a sheet, blue eyes rimmed. He must have finished up with the police officer.

She could hear his muttering as he came closer.

"…stupid idiots, should just go hang themselves…"

She watched, her glassy eyes full of dulled concern.

"What's the matter Ronald?" she asked, voice a hollow lilt.

Ron frowned deeply, coming to a stop a few feet away, crossing his arms over his unzipped brown jacket.

"The fucking bastard didn't believe a word I said," he intoned bitterly, "and when I mentioned that house, he simply waved it away, saying nothing could be done! Not even the coroner-…though they'll _'make the proper arrangements for her transport to the family accommodations for proper treatment and burial.'_"

His face was contorted as he spat on the ground.

"I'm sorry Ron," she whispered, face blank, "I didn't really believe that old man when he said…"

And all for nothing, she thought wearily, seizing her hands around her purse that she clutched desperately to herself, cursing the contents. She had visited Dumbledore one last time and he, in all of his batty wisdom had simply frowned in worry, brought trembling fingers to his lips before burying himself in a back room. When he returned he came flourishing a wad of paper notes, claiming compensation and 'grave sorrow'.

"I'm beginning to think Aberforth is never going to be proved wrong…"

Hermione had left without a single word.

She closed her eyes, images from just the previous night clamouring around her brain. Once Harry had left them, they'd been forced to stay until daybreak, whereupon Ron had insisted they go to the police. They'd ended up at the hospital instead, to treat Luna for her leg, who was currently sitting up in the passenger's seat, bandaged up and explaining to Colin about the beasts from the night before.

Something about Nargles.

She couldn't care less.

They were almost ready to leave, to get this place away and far behind them, but she couldn't resist one last glance over the small town and into the distance, past tree tops where she knew the mansion to be. Where Harry must be.

Harry, her best friend for almost ten years, would not be returning with them. She wasn't even sure that she wanted him to.

A flash of blood, falling down a throat as if it were water made her turn away as she huddled her face deeper into the confines of her coat.

She simply couldn't fathom how it had turned out like this, from such an innocuous phone call from not even a month ago. Both Ginny, and Harry, were taken from them, and she feared, with a worried glance to his tense figure, that Ron would never be the same.

The car was revving behind her, the exhaust spiting liquid fumes into the cold air, and she could feel the door she was leaning against vibrate.

There was no more reason for them to linger, the faster they could be removed, the better.

But still, she did not make to move from her place.

Just a few more moments…then they could go.

She stared at the ground, nudging a piece of gravel with the side of her shoe, hearing as if from far away the little clink it made against the others.

Even with the raised hairs on the back of her neck, she didn't raise her head right away, a wistful, childish notion filling her head that perhaps she could keep time still, and goodbyes paused.

But, it was obviously not a battle she could win, and she eventually turned her gaze towards the lone figure standing a little way away. Ron glanced at the same person, but averted his eyes. She knew, however, that he was indeed listening.

"Harry," she acknowledged, looking over at the exceedingly pale man, his body remarkably smooth and without visible flaw. The tight rings about his eyes however, gave away the lingering pain.

She took no real heed of the fact.

"Hermione," he replied, just as flatly.

She stared morosely at him, arguments, words, flowing to the tip of her tongue as always. He could still come with them, things could go back to how they were, and they could still keep in touch.

But she knew just as he did, that these things were meaningless and useless; mere words that meant nothing at all.

For none of those promises could ever be.

"I suppose this is goodbye," he said, not seeming too fazed by it.

"Yes," she uttered sadly, her throat and eyes tight, but too numb anymore to shed tears over him.

He appeared to ponder her for a moment, head cocked to the side, before a light smile twitched his lips up just a little.

"Goodbye," he said simply, and turned to go.

"Wait!" she called, dashing forward a few steps, crashing through the gravel, only to halt when verdant eyes met her own.

"I…I just wanted to say…" she stuttered breathlessly, fumbling before she bit her tongue, composing herself.

"I just wanted to tell you that I- we'll miss you, and I hope you have a- a good life, in the future. A happy one."

She smiled weakly and let her arms fall limply to her sides.

"…You too."

Her smile widened for just a moment before she span on her heel, practically jumping in the car door and slamming it behind her, not giving a single glance back, staring determinedly ahead out the windscreen.

Ron said nothing for a moment, and simply crunched through the gears, sending the car jolting forward off down the road.

Neither of them, however, could deny that they stared at the wing mirrors, which showed the last glimpses of their long-term friend, before he disappeared, hidden from view by the curve of the road.

Harry watched his old friends disappear, out of sight and out of his life. He could feel a certain melancholy in the air, but didn't feel sad himself.

Truthfully, he was more concerned by the barely healed wounds of the previous night, but it had felt right to see them off, no matter.

However, with them now gone, he was keen to find a bed, or some blood, in whichever order, and to rest. He had an entire eternity waiting for him, all by his sire's side.

For now, he could afford to take things slow.

He sighed, watching curiously as no answering billow of white smoke appeared in the cool air.

Smiling a little he turned away, ignoring the pain as he went to return to the house.

Draco had commented that they'd be leaving it's confines soon, that they could find much better accommodations elsewhere as Draco had no intentions to go back to Sleep.

For himself, Harry didn't much care where they went, the fact that he could go with Draco being all he needed.

All he needed to explore this new life of his.

After all, he didn't want to waste his second chance.

* * *

**A/N: Ahh, i'm starting to get a bit emotional, its so near the end! I hope this chapter didn't dissapoint you, and that you like Harry's progression as a character through this fic. Bittersweet endings...#sniffs However! There is the epilogue to go, and it is worth waiting for! For, it will include some much waited vampy-ness, and the sweet calls of M rated smex. You all thought i'd forgotton, hadn't you? But, never fear, the yummy sex scene will be here! So, with that to look forward to, i leave you. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and dont forget to drop a review on the way out!**


	28. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N: Hiya! Sorry this took longer than i thought, life at this time of year can get pretty cluttered. Just want to thank you for all your wonderful reviews, and that i hope you enjoyed this story. It was my first chaptered fic, so i'm kinda fond of it, even with the last chapter. So, here's the epilogue, hope you all enjoy the smut :P**

**Warnings:** Elicit SLASH, lemon scene- **gay sex!** Don't like/want, then do not read this and don't complain! For the sane people, i warn of the dangers of the hot guy smexing to follow. That is all. Oh, and vampires.

* * *

**Epilogue**

Bass pumped deep from below the streets, enough to unsettle and shake small stones on the uneven pavement. Artificial light blared, jolting reflections of colour wavering in half-dry puddles. A few shouts sounded in the distance, as well as the odd blare of sirens, cutting through the crisp night air.

The clouds above obscured most of the sky, but the moon, a sharp crescent, peaked out regularly to stare down onto the crowded city below.

It was well past midnight, though most people remained inside the surrounding establishments, only a few drunks already ambling along the street, clothes ruffled, and skin sweaty from tight heat and dancing.

One such man ran a hand over his face, ruffling limp brown hair as he attempted to catch his breath, light headed and dizzy from his foray into the shadier parts of town. He stumbled on the uneven road surface, dimly lost at the absence of his partner.

His ears rang with loud music, even as it dimmed to background noise, but the night wind did its job to cool his body and lift some of the haze fugged over his mind.

He shambled his way a few more steps in the direction of home, before a flash of movement caught his attention. Automatically turning his head, he stopped in his tracks.

He first saw boots, leather ones that extended up and up, past knees. Blinking dazedly, the haze of alcohol returning, he glanced immediately up to the face, and swallowed thickly.

Dark hair fluttered over a delicate face, red lips parted to show a glimpse of white teeth and pink tongue. Thick lashes flickered over forest green eyes, and he felt pierced where he stood.

It was a man, but an undeniably beautiful one at that, dark clothes, perfect pale skin- enchanting.

Suddenly, the music in his head seemed to have stopped.

Those lips parted further into a coy smile, before the figure pushed from the wall, and walking a few steps deeper into the alley it had been leisurely leaning in.

Without a second thought the poor man followed after, a sudden lust gripping him with no apparent rhyme, nor reason.

He quickly caught to catch the beautiful thing; it shouldn't, couldn't get away, he had to touch it…so soft, that he glowed.

However, he had barely made a single brush of contact, before he was pulled sharply against the darkly stunning man, the grip on the man's forearms nearly excruciating.

He would have cried out, had the green eyes not stopped it dead in his throat. There was no more resistance, lying limply in his arms.

Succulent lips pressed hotly to the crook of the neck before him, and Harry couldn't quite withhold his excitement; hearing the sweet, delicious heartbeat throb under the man's skin- feel it pump against his lips.

Without a thought, his canines were already descending in anticipation, and a fierce, dangerous hunger seized him in a vice grip, leaving him with nothing to stop the undeniable need to simply _bite._

Chuckling a little against his prey's skin, he tilted the creature almost tenderly in his arms, already seeing the heady glaze to the man's dull eyes- completely numb and for the taking.

Too excited to wait, he wasted no time in teasing, and practically ripped down into the tender flesh spread out so tauntingly before him. He heard the distant groan of pain; the shudder of distress, but merely groaned himself, one of intense pleasure as the blood, fresh and hot, hit his tongue.

It was heavenly, smooth, the delightful tang of copper making him suck all the harder, immense satisfaction sweeping through him as he felt his fangs descend deep into the flesh, brining wonderful, lively blood to the surface.

He sighed in pleasure, pulling the rapidly cooling body closer to himself, feeling his own heart start to contract in response to his victim's, whose beat frantically for life.

In a mere few seconds, even that was gone, and Harry could feel his pulse flutter in response, and he reluctantly pulled away upon realising he'd drained the man dry.

He stepped back, releasing his teeth from their position, and dark, verdant eyes glimmered at the sight of broken, mangled skin and deep congealing blood. He let the empty body fall without a thought to the ground, hitting with a dull thump.

He couldn't help but breathe deeply, despite no need as he slumped against the brick wall behind him and stared wide eyed at the sky.

The rough rub of the brick was a stark contrast to the searing heat running through his veins, which made his muscles tremble with desire.

He'd never…he'd never fed so- so….

…_delightfully _before.

Of course, his sire's lifeblood would always be sweetest, but, as he licked his lips, using his fingers to clear up the rest he couldn't reach, he knew that _that_ was a sweet addiction.

The thrill of the hunt, the smell of fear and desire swirled into a heady mixture and then the sweet, red nectar that slide thickly down his throat, a roaring heat that set him aflame with life and power.

He momentarily contemplated the staining crimson on his slender fingers, leisurely licking at the evidence. He sighed appreciatively and giggled a little, letting his eyes roll back as his head hit the wall behind him, still riding the high.

It was his first time, to go out and hunt alone. Draco had been a wonderful teacher, gladly showing him by example how to attract and charm, and also be discreet and dispose of the unfortunate corpse at the end of it.

He'd felt the excitement run through his veins those times as well, as he watched the elder vampire feed, blood spilling over his mouth, and letting himself lap up the mess.

But this, doing it all himself, it was almost impossible to explain the emotions that engulfed him.

Contentment, desire, heat, control, power.

All of it was simply glorious.

And he suddenly couldn't imagine life without it.

He hummed lightly to himself as he stared down dispassionately at the mortal at his feet. He really couldn't be bothered to get rid of it, but he knew Draco would scold him later if he didn't.

He sighed lightly and got to work, thinking mildly of what to do about the somewhat uncomfortable throb developing between his thighs.

He ran his tongue over his lips one final time before finishing up, a spark of light, and the thing was gone, ashes to the wind.

Satisfied with himself, he turned just in time as a group of drunken teenagers ambled past, shouts littering the air.

The clouds parted another time, to shower the departing vampire with a single beam of weak moonlight, dancing off the silky raven hair.

Another last, lingering moment, and both were gone from sight.

* * *

Harry could hear his boots clacking against the hard floor, sharp against the otherwise silent night. It was a sound that rang some recognition within him, and sent his green eyes clouded over in thought- he could have sworn that he'd heard such a sound before- of course he had, you heard it all the time- but for a moment it stirred a memory he thought he should remember- something significant.

Wet brown eyes momentarily flashed across his vision, but before he knew it, it was gone, and only the odd sense of déjà vu remained.

He tutted to himself and shook off the feeling, holding no desire to worry about useless things as he approached the shrouded entrance to the somewhat questionable club that Draco had brought them to.

It wasn't as if it were a hole in the wall, dank and smelling like a piss bucket- Harry's nose wrinkled at the very thought- rather quite the opposite, but Harry hadn't particularly liked the upturn of many of the patron's noses, and the general unashamed nature of the place.

However, vampire open clubs weren't exactly on every street, so he supposed it'd have to do, even though he could swear the bouncers glared at him every time he walked inside.

Indeed, as he passed the two heavily muscled men in too tight suits and hidden eyes, he barely spared them a flicker of emerald eyes, which rolled as he saw them clench their fists.

Instead, he shoved aside the thick curtain and stepped inside, being hit full force with the sound of low, somewhat sinister music, chattering and the almost incessant clink of glasses upon varnished cherry wood.

Sighing lightly at the perfumed air, sweet and rich with the scent of blood, he shimmied his way through the various patrons, his hips swaying with him, causing more than one wandering eye to glance in his direction.

Harry however, only had one destination in mind, gaze pinned directly onto the only one who could bring him relief.

Draco was sitting magnanimously in the centre of a hub of what claimed to be 'influential' vampires. In Harry's opinion, the women wore far too tight dresses, and the men's faces might as well have been painted on with chalk, but then again, he would be quite biased. As far as he was concerned the only one worthy of attention in the entire room was his own sire, whose silver hair glinted under the sparse lighting, grey eyes as hypnotising as ever, his pale, handsome features drawn into a mask of passive boredom.

Harry felt a shiver run through him, a tremor of his deadened heart at the mere sight of him, the incessant heat running through his veins sparking in desire.

Eyes falling to half-mast he gladly made his way over, catching the older vampire's eyes as he approached.

With arms spread out behind him on the plush, blue velveteen sofa, his lap was all for the taking, and Harry slipped onto it without a second thought, moving to straddle one of the blonde's leisurely spread legs.

Draco graciously accepted the welcoming kiss that Harry pressed against his cheek, jaw and then lips, drawing in the other's tongue in a sudden, hot tangle. Harry groaned at the contact, tasting the fragrant aftertaste of good wine on his lover's lips. It was all so wonderfully familiar that he closed his eyes in a blissful gesture, feeling a warm, comforting glow settle in his chest.

He pulled back reluctantly, instead moving his arms round to ensnare the blond into his embrace and rested his head against Draco's chest, comforted by the familiar husky scent, mingled with the heady mix of blood and wine.

He sighed happily, the small, but undeniable feeling of uneasiness he'd experienced from not being at his sire's side dimming to a contented buzz, his mind falling at ease.

He felt Draco's chuckle rumble through his chest.

"You're back earlier than I thought you would be, darling. Was there nothing fun?"

Draco's voice was as intoxicating as ever, a deep rumble of purring velvet, which made his skin tingle pleasantly.

Harry sighed lightly, attempting to dig himself closer to the enthralling vampire.

"No, I just didn't want to waste time," a somewhat foxy smile adorned his face as he tilted his head up to lock gazes with the blond, "After all, I'd much rather spend time with you…"

He let his voice slip to a tone he'd never used when in life, but that after his death, came as easy as breathing to him. He saw Draco's grey eyes flare in amusement, a pale hand coming down to rest in his raven, silky locks.

"Ah, is that so? Well, I hope not to disappoint you then."

Harry felt the smile twist further on his face, letting a slender hand drop to slip under Draco's shirt, to begin to rub the other's hip suggestively, showing a glimpse of taught, alabaster skin.

"Oh, you'd never disappoint me…"

Draco gave a small snort at this, and without any warning suddenly reached out to form a steel grip on the wrist of his charmant's wandering hand.

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to-"

Harry, despite wincing at the killer pressure on his arm under Draco's fingers, cut him off abruptly.

"And what are you going to do about it?"

Harry felt his heart stutter as he met his green eyes with Draco's own tumultuous ones at his own bravery, overcome with the stare. Every time he looked those eyes, he couldn't help but be reminded of a swirling storm of angry clouds, and just like now, they were often completely unreadable.

Harry swallowed thickly as a stab of fear pounced on him; though Draco was very fond of him, it wouldn't stop him from disciplining him in some way if he thought he was out of line- and talking back so boldly was surely out of line. But as he watched, anticipating anger, he couldn't stop the jolt of exhilaration that shot through him at the same time. Fear and excitement would mingle until he couldn't distinguish one from the other, and sometimes, Harry would jokingly wonder if he was developing into some sort of masochist.

But, the feelings couldn't be denied, and right now as he stared up into closed eyes, he wondered and tensed on the vampire's lap.

It really was a stupid thing to do, him challenging such an older and more powerful vampire's authority in front of absolutely _everyone_. He wouldn't be surprised if-

"My, my, you have gotten bold, haven't you?" Draco heaved what appeared to be a dramatic sigh, "Ah, and its probably all my fault too."

Harry blinked, surprised, as the blond threw out a couple of chuckles. He only relaxed as he felt Draco's hand in his hair continue to move through the inky strands, and the grip on his wrist loosen.

He stared back up Draco, who had cocked his head in amused contemplation.

"Well," he drawled slowly, "I suppose if you're like this…then who am I to refuse you?"

Harry blinked once more in confusion before he suddenly gave a startled yelp as Draco swept to standing, taking Harry along with him in a bear hold. He had to scramble to stay on.

He watched mindlessly as they moved through the crowds of patrons, some of which turned to stare, while other looked away, back to their red filled wine glasses that kept clinking on that damned cherry wood.

The colours seemed to swirl, and he began to feel lightheaded, gripping ever more tightly onto Draco, the only seemingly solid thing in the room. He could still feel the high and heat of his feeding that seemed to only become inflamed in the elder vampire's presence, burning to a fierce lust.

He could feel Draco's hard body against his own, muscles undulating and shifting under his shirt as they moved, his thick, musky scent all around him. Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, leaning forward to attach his lips to the blonde's ear, happily sucking his way down to his jaw, sucking on the flesh beneath his tongue.

He only noticed that they had moved to a private room when he was suddenly flung from Draco's hold to bounce on top of the covers of large, king size bed.

He got a fleeting glimpse of a single shaded lamp in one corner, the walls papered a dark vermilion and that the bed he was lying on had a large wooden frame, the covers underneath him a myriad of thick luscious blanket and soft white sheets.

He barely could regain any sort of equilibrium before he was shoved forward towards the headboard, a heavy figure descending upon him.

With a breathy gasp, Harry moved his arms to clasp at Draco's back, as their tongues met in a fierce dance, igniting a writhing ball of heat in his stomach.

Despite himself, Harry gasped out, eyes already hazing over to a dark verdant as the lust that he'd been keeping at bay surfaced with a vengeance and his grip on Draco's pale back tightened, hard, sharp fingernails digging into the pale skin, shredding their way through the silken shirt.

Draco chuckled, voice rough and husky against his lips, causing a tickling sensation to bloom against his reddened lips.

The blond moved apart just enough to remove the shirt, flinging it away to some unknown corner.

Harry couldn't help the growl that escaped him, as their contact was broken, but took the initiative to begin to remove his own clothing with an almost angry intent and single-mindedness.

He could barely think, the heat burning under his skin taking any thought from his head.

He just needed more…more of…more…

"Eager, aren't we?"

The brunette didn't even bother to respond in words, just letting a lusty huff escape from between his parted lips, darting forward to slam himself against the blond, reattaching their lips with brutal intensity. He took the opportunity to push the blond back so he could lie on top of him, hardened, straining crotches coming into contact; a mind blanking flash of pleasure burning from within his pants.

His eyes slammed shut against the force and his head flopped back with a breathless sigh. His limbs weakened their grip, and Draco wasted no time to roll them over, so he was straddling the younger vampire's hips instead. Draco's eyes were already glowing an excited silver, the tips of fangs peaking out from between pink lips as he panted. Harry gazed through hazy eyes as he saw a tongue slip over those white, gleaming teeth.

He felt the tug, as his sire pulled off his boots and tight leather in one swift movement. Harry could only see the pale arm sweeping back in a movement that sent another pulse of fiery pleasure running through him, wild and free.

He was so hot…he felt he would burn from the inside out.

He barely restrained himself as he felt his now completely naked body come into contact with the soft sheets of the bed, his sensitive skin tingling pleasantly at the feel of the smooth fabric flitting over his exposed skin. It distracted him just enough for Draco to divest himself of his own clothing before he surveyed the panting, mindless boy below him.

Harry truly did make a sight.

Face flushed, eyes dark and hazy, practically watering as he panted uselessly, his raven hair spread in a tangled mess on the sheets and across his face, a delightful image of ravishment and debauchery. He watched with hooded eyes as Harry squirmed impatiently, pale body writhing in an attempt to find some relief from the burning heat.

It was a beautiful display, and the knowledge that it was completely of his own making, from the lustful cries to the fangs ripping open the brunette's lip as he bite down, made it all the sweeter.

He therefore wasted no time in lowering himself against the soft, pale body that was so willing for his touch, to inflame him even further.

He really should have sent Harry out to hunt before…

Harry almost cried out in relief as he felt Draco settle against him, the weight on top of him fuelling his crazy desire for contact, not being able to help the bucking of his hips, rubbing and rolling against that wonderful heat and friction that was the blonde's impressive erection, his own already weeping in need.

It was a burning that wouldn't go away, that only seemed to burn brighter with every thrust, every roll, as they rubbed together, but he couldn't help himself, he was so hot…but he needed to get even hotter…if he didn't, he didn't think he could bear it; it was already so painful…

"…Haa…..haa….Dra-…..co…"

A fevered grunt was his only reply, an animalistic sound that accompanied the harsh sounds of flesh on flesh, sweat slipping between them, making their pale skin glisten and glow like moonlight in the dark.

Harry was lost to the sensation that throbbed deeply, taking all his concentration, leaving only the need to get closer, to get _more._

And so he gave a pathetic whimper as suddenly the pressure was lifted, taken away- leaving him hanging above the precipice, but not allowed to fall. His body practically screamed out at the loss.

He urgently moved his head to see what the fuck that stupid fecking, irritating, evil blond was up to, only to find him sitting back on his haunches, fingers fiddling with something out of the light.

It was only a momentary lapse, but it was enough that Harry jerked in surprise as he felt a grip on his ankle, before his entire leg was pulled over Draco's shoulder.

He watched, dazed, as the blond leaned over him, and there was the muffled sound of cloth ruffling. He blinked in bemused despair as he felt something soft cut tightly into his wrists above his head.

"Now…" growled out a mussed blond vampire, silver eyes still aglow, shining in the darkness, "…you didn't think I wouldn't get you back for your little comment out in the club did you? Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to…punish you for it."

And before Harry could even process the husky words, he felt hot lips descend on his inner thigh, sharp teeth coming out to nip and bite their way up the soft, delicate skin. Harry writhed in response, the burning pool in his stomach flaring with every drop of pain and erotic tickle that danced up his spine.

He nearly screamed, from both pleasure and pain- once again a heady mixture- when Draco completely sunk his fangs into his thigh, fangs going deep. Harry glanced down, only to see silver blond strands of hair, that he could feel tickle the underside of his throbbing length, and sensitive thigh. The sensation of Draco suckling on his blood, drawn straight from the artery, was strong enough to almost make him cum. The only thing that stopped him was the sudden, crushing grip of pale fingers around the base of his weeping, painful erection.

He cried out in both pain, pleasure and frustration, and tried desperately to move his own hands down to finish the job when he felt a resistance pull on them, halting their movement. He blinked in bemusement and tugged again, only to find that his hands weren't going anywhere.

Wriggling under the intense sensations, Draco beginning to lap with his tongue at the fine rivulets of blood that escaped his hungering mouth, to run down, stark against his white skin, Harry twisted his head as far as it would go, to see what was holding him down so cruelly.

He felt a certain horror at discovering that both of his wrists were tied tightly to the headboard, and despite his added strength as a vampire, they wouldn't come loose.

Groaning, he turned back, squirming as Draco finally began to release him, the blonde's canines jutting against his abused flesh, a large stain of thick, dark blood left in his wake.

Harry winced slightly as the wound began to heal instantly, not from pain, but intense satisfaction as Draco leisurely licked away the mess, running his bloodied tongue right up to his hip.

Harry gasped and tugged on his tied hands once more, but it was impossible to escape as those devilish lips moved to cover the head of his throbbing length, the renewed heat sending him into a fierce struggle against his binds as he rolled his hips fervently against the bed, thumping back into the mattress heavily.

He could swear he felt those lips curve into a smirk around his cock.

He could dimly feel the wriggling probing of a searching finger, but paid it little mind, even as it slipped past the strong rings of muscle to push inside him, too bothered by the burning heat consuming him, setting his skin on fire.

It was…so hot…too hot….

"Haa…….haa…….urh!"

Draco ignored the brunette's unformed, breathless pleas, and only continued his torture, still keeping an intense grip on the younger vampire's erection to prevent him from his desperate need to cum.

Instead, he used the opportunity to slip yet another finger inside, delighting in viciously scissoring his fingers, sending Harry bucking even sharper than usual.

"Dra-…..pl-please…"

Harry couldn't even define just what he was asking for, but Draco seemed to be the only one to help him, even as he seemingly tortured him too. As he felt the numb pain of fingers in his backside, he whimpered, eyes watering, the pain and pleasure one in tormenting him. The blazing ball in his stomach licked and burnt his insides, and for one crazy moment he almost felt that he was indeed on fire, but then two more fingers slammed into him with abandon, and the pain was sufficient enough to bring him back down, if only slightly, and for a moment.

And then, it was all gone- the fingers were removed, the mouth and tongue slipped off his cock and the fingers ensnaring it so cruelly also retreated.

Harry whimpered in relief, and would have curled himself into a ball if not for the insistent hands that gripped his hips brutally; he looked up only to find burning silver eyes pinning him with their intensity, fangs white against the bloody mouth. The younger vampire felt his cock twitch, the throb not giving him any peace.

Draco didn't say a word however, and only moved Harry's legs so that the pale appendages were positioned over his shoulders, parting them to reveal him completely to the blonde's searing gaze. He eyes rolled into his head as Draco moved to lay down on him, a thick, burning member slipping into him lewdly with every inch Draco came closer to his face. Harry choked on a cry when the impressive length was fully sheathed, but it was smothered by Draco's sudden lips on his own, swallowing any cry, of pain, bliss, or otherwise.

Their lips entangled, and Harry replied feverishly, tears finally dripping from his glazed eyes as Draco began to move, spreading him wide, the stinging pain fading only in the face of the impossibly bright and scorching feel when a sharp, hard thrust came into contact with his sweet spot, brutally abusing his prostate again and again, sending cries spilling from his mouth, despite the deep, ravishing kisses that Draco reigned down on him, the taste of his own blood echoing in his mouth and screams.

He barely noticed as Draco pulled him further up for a better angle, hitting into him head on, sending a renewed bout of tears flowing down his face, a wail of pleasure dripping from his open mouth, from between descended fangs.

Harry felt a breathy chuckle against his neck, the lust fuelled nips on his neck, and he frantically pulled on his restrained arms, desperately wanting to dig them into Draco's' blond locks to anchor himself against the screaming tide of white hot fire burning deep inside of him, growing stronger with every thrust. His lips trembled against Draco's and the blond responded in kind by lowering himself to the brunette's exposed neck once more, kissing gently for the first time on the soft skin, even as he thrust so violently into his smaller lover.

Harry thought he would explode at any moment, right into flame, as the searing heat descended lower, from the depths of his belly to between his legs, feeling it coil deep into a single blaring point. He shuddered under the onslaught as Draco brushed against his sweet spot once more, and before he knew it, his thighs were stiffening, clenching firmly against Draco's waist, where they had fallen, a huge blanket of white momentarily taking over his vision as he finally exploded from the gathering heat, his body jerking violently with the force.

He could only feel the intense, blinding high- he was barely aware as he instinctively bit down, his mouth flooded with the sweet crimson blood of his sire. He could barely feel as Draco stiffened above him as well, the blonde's fangs ripping through his flesh for a second time.

The only sensation Harry could really feel was when he started to come down, his limbs boneless and twitching like autumn leaves. He could sense the hot liquid filling him, even as Draco unhurriedly slipped out of him, and the cooling white on his own chest.

He gasped listlessly as he collapsed against the sheets, letting his legs fall from where they lay around Draco, who also fell right on top of him.

The heavy weight didn't remain for long though, as Draco rolled over with a hoarse groan, only moving to finally release Harry's hands from their prison against the headboard before laying once more next to his lover.

Harry barely noticed that he was released however, as the black was already fighting over his vision. He contently let himself be pulled towards Draco's chest, uncaring to the various amounts of sweat and cum on his body.

In fact, he didn't care for anything at all, except for his closing eyelids.

Draco said not a word as he too, followed his dear charmant into slumber, wrapped up together within sheets that would be stained by morning.

For now, they would be enveloped in each other's embrace, all through the dark dark night.

* * *

**A/N: So, thats that! Hope you enjoyed it, lemons can be surprisingly difficult, so i hope that one was good. And so, for now i say farewell, its been wild guys!**

**And in case you're interested, one of my 'projects' is an upcoming fenrir/harry. Yeah- i'm doing werewolfies this time :P**

**So, hope you enjoyed the story, any last comments, tell them now or forever hold your peace, and goodnight!**


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